The Wheel
by Cynamin
Summary: Buffy dies right before the End of Days...now how will the world survive?
1. Preface: Death

##  The Wheel

By Cynamin

**Disclaimers**: I don't own them. You did know that, right? Oh, and I borrowed the concept of the ghostroads from The Gatekeeper Trilogy of Buffy books by Christopher Golden and Nancy Holder…but then I sort of adapted them to fit my story… The tarot definitions are from the "Ancestral Path Tarot" by Julie Cuccia-Watts, with text by Tracey Hoover. All are used without permission. I think I own everything else, but I could be wrong.   
**Spoilers**: IWRY somewhat. Aside from that, general season 4/season 1.   
**Content**: *Major* character death, angst, and B/A fluff. NutMeg called it "sad fluff." Isn't that an odd combination?   
**Distribution**: Just ask. I won't say no.   
**Notes**: Another dream inspired fic. Feel free to run and hide now. Special thanks to NutMeg for beta reading this for me! You really helped my confidence with this story. 

A note on the format of this story: Since this is a rather long fic, or will be eventually, and the parts are very short, it is divided into sections. Think like a novel that is divided into books and then into chapters. So, "The Wheel" is one story. Don't let the "book" titles confuse you. 

* * *

  
_X The Wheel of Fortune: Fortune, fate, destiny, cycles, spirals, luck. Unlimited possibilities for good and its opposite. Seasons of being. Recognition of the cyclic nature of life and the universe. Understanding of how life cycles are embedded in astrological cycles._

* * *

###  Preface: Death

* * *

  
_XIII Death: Seeing beyond death to rebirth; clearing away the old to make room for the new; risking renewal; radical transformation; unexpected change; death of a particular phase in one's life; completion of one cycle as a new one unfolds. Conversely, can indicate stagnation, stasis, inability to change, lack of development or evolution._

**Part One**

She was used to fighting. 

Everyday was a battle; a battle for the future, a battle for the light, a battle for the world. A battle for life. 

This battle for *her* life? That was something new. 

The ambulance was crowded, especially around the two injured. The girl in particular – her stretcher was surrounded by paramedics struggling to keep her alive. They had never seen anyone so badly injured yet still living. Not only that, but she was aware, looking at them with pain and panic in her gaze. Her blond hair was matted with blood, her shirt hung in tatters and she had deep gashes all over her body. That didn't even begin to describe her internal injuries. 

The second occupant of the ambulance was a young blond man, only a couple of years older than her. He had a nasty gash on his forehead among other injuries but refused to let the paramedics treat him until they helped the girl. He clung to the girl's hand – one of the few uninjured parts of her – in desperation. 

"Don't you dare die on me Buffy," he said. "You just hold on. You just hold on." 

The injured girl swallowed and tried to speak. She locked eyes with the boy next to her. She'd never been so afraid. 

"Don't try and talk," the boy whispered, and the girl nodded very slightly. Her condition would allow no more. 

The ambulance pulled up in front of Sunnydale Hospital. The injured pair had to be separated then; not an easy task. The girl was rushed into the emergency room, the boy steered away to be treated for his lesser wounds. 

Two more young folk came running in behind them. A nurse stopped them from going right in. "How is she?" the boy demanded. 

"Are either of you family?" the nurse asked. At the teens' blank faces she said, "Her family should be here." 

"I'll call her mother," the boy said quickly and rushed for the phone. 

The girl was not so easily turned away. "Please," she begged, "I'm her best friend." 

"Then you can help," the nurse replied. "We need to know anything you can tell us about her medical condition and what happened." 

The red head's gaze was locked past the nurse where doctors tried to save her friend. "She was saving me. I was captured…by this gang, and she saved me. I'm the reason she's here," she began, not even seeming to hear her own words. "She's…really strong and heals real fast…. She's not allergic to anything. She's been in the hospital twice before, once with the flu and once with a…neck wound." 

She might have said more, but her friend cried out and the doctors seemed to be moving quicker than before. Something was clearly wrong. The red head rushed past the nurse to her injured friend's side. Or tried to; another doctor stopped her as she drew close. 

"Willow!" the injured girl cried, reaching out blindly as best she could. Her eyes were glazed with pain. "Tell him!" she yelled, her voice hoarse. "Tell him I never forgot. Tell him…" 

"I will," the red head said, though she did not understand. "I will." And the nurses herded her back outside to wait. 

That was the last time she ever spoke to Buffy Summers, Slayer. 

* * *

  
**Part Two**

"And then Clint says, 'I thought gifts were only for the anniversary dates.' I mean, hello?" Cordelia was saying. "I can't have him take me for granted. Of course, then I had a vision, and that just called off the date for good." 

"You know, we are hunting demons, Cordelia," Wesley whispered. 

"So?" Cordelia replied in her normal tone of voice. 

"Don't you think you might be scarring them off with this chatter?" 

"Oh, please," Cordelia replied, rolling her eyes. 

Angel smiled slightly, listening to all of this from a couple of steps ahead of them. They were following the very vision that had interrupted Cordelia's date, and she wasn't about to let him forget it. He was sympathetic, but he would have been more so if the vision had been clearer. 

"You sure you don't remember anymore?" Angel asked again. They'd been walking down this street for a half an hour based on the street sign she'd seen. "Some…clue?" 

"You're one to talk," Cordelia replied testily. "Mr. Cryptic." 

"You'd think that the Powers That Be would be clearer in their messages, wouldn't you?" Wesley said after a moment. 

"You would," Angel agreed. 

"At least we know it has to be in the city, right?" 

Angel was going to agree when he remembered another vision – one of Doyle's visions. It was the one time that a vision had led him out of L.A. He had gone to Sunnydale…to Buffy. He tried not to think about her, to think about those few days, but he couldn't help it. His mind and heart automatically went to her. They always would. 

A scream tore from his throat suddenly, but Angel did not hear it. Nor did he hear Cordelia cry out as he collapsed right in front of her. He only felt the pain – all consuming – and an anguish he could not explain. 

The Slayer was dead, and the darkness consumed them both. 

(Contnued in Book One - The Hanged One) 


	2. Book One: The Hanged One

##  The Wheel

By Cynamin

**Disclaimers**: I don't own them. You did know that, right? Oh, and I borrowed the concept of the ghostroads from The Gatekeeper Trilogy of Buffy books by Christopher Golden and Nancy Holder…but then I sort of adapted them to fit my story… The tarot definitions are from the "Ancestral Path Tarot" by Julie Cuccia-Watts, with text by Tracey Hoover. All are used without permission. I think I own everything else, but I could be wrong.   
**Spoilers**: IWRY somewhat. Aside from that, general season 4/season 1.   
**Content**: *Major* character death, angst, and B/A fluff. NutMeg called it "sad fluff." Isn't that an odd combination?   
**Distribution**: Just ask. I won't say no.   
**Notes**: Another dream inspired fic. Feel free to run and hide now. Special thanks to NutMeg for beta reading this for me! You really helped my confidence with this story. 

A note on the format of this story: Since this is a rather long fic, or will be eventually, and the parts are very short, it is divided into sections. Think like a novel that is divided into books and then into chapters. So, "The Wheel" is one story. Don't let the "book" titles confuse you. 

* * *

  
_X The Wheel of Fortune: Fortune, fate, destiny, cycles, spirals, luck. Unlimited possibilities for good and its opposite. Seasons of being. Recognition of the cyclic nature of life and the universe. Understanding of how life cycles are embedded in astrological cycles._

* * *

###  Book One: The Hanged One

* * *

  
_XII The Hanged One: Transistion. A period of rest between significant events, a time when action is inadvisable. Surrender to inevitable circumstances; in/voluntary sacrifice; descent to the depths of the self; altered perceptions by examining things from a different (upside down) viewpoint. Can also indicate boredom, stagnation, stasis, inability to change, lack of development or evolution._

* * *

  
**Part One**

Cordelia wouldn't admit it, but she was terrified. When Angel had cried out…. She'd never heard anything like it. It was pain, it was fear, it was despair…it was all of these and more. And it had been sudden – he'd just screamed and dropped with no apparent cause. 

Forty-five minutes later she and Wesley had just managed to get their employer – their friend – back to the apartment. Cordelia cursed that they had decided to walk to where whatever evil they had to fight was waiting…which never bothered to show. They'd had to walk back as well, dragging Angel unconscious between them. Her feet ached, her shoulders ached, and she was so tired she could sleep for a week. 

No, scratch that; she wouldn't be able to sleep at all until they found out what was wrong with Angel. 

She and Wesley struggled to get him into his bed. He was, she reflected with bitter humor, a dead weight. Once she'd done that she walked out of the bedroom, wearily taking a seat at the kitchen table. She hung her head in her hands. 

Wesley came out and joined her several minutes later. "I can't find anything…physically wrong with him," he said. "There's no sign of injury or poison…no illness would effect him…" his voice trailed off. 

"Then what happened to him, Wesley?" Cordelia demanded. "People…vampires...don't just scream like that without reason." 

"I don't know," Wesley said, sounding as tired as Cordelia felt. He sat up straighter after a moment and spoke in a tone meant to reassure her. "I will begin researching immediately," he said. 

Cordelia nodded. "One of us should stay with him tonight," she said softly. 

"You go home and rest," Wesley insisted. "I need Angel's books if I'm going to research this properly anyway." 

Cordelia stood, her legs aching in protest. She said nothing, but let her eyes reveal her gratitude. She crossed the room, taking one last look into the bedroom before she left. Angel lay on his side, curled up under the covers so that only his face was showing. His brow was creased in…pain? She sighed wearily. She cared for him more than she would ever admit. He was like family. He certainly did more for her than her family ever had. 

Now it was time for her to return the favor, and she hadn't the slightest idea of where to begin. 

* * *

  
**Part Two**

Angel was lost. An empty gray was all around him. There was nothing – no ground, no up, no down, no left, no right…yet somehow Angel knew he was falling. Lost. The gray darkened in response to his despair. 

Then sensation; a hand grasping at his. Small and strong, warm and familiar, it was a piece of reality in the midst of the unreal. Everything snapped into place at that touch; the ground materialized beneath his feet, location defined itself, and the gray lightened. It was no more real than before though, like an amorphous mist that could give rise to anything at ant moment. It was disorienting. Angel swayed on his feet. 

A second hand on his arm steadied him, and Angel could have wept at the familiar touch. "Oh, Angel," she whispered, her beautiful voice a mix of concern, love, and sadness, "you shouldn't be here." 

"Wherever you are, I'll be," Angel whispered back. He did not look at her, afraid of what he might see. 

"Don't say that," she said strongly, her voice harsh. "It's not true." 

Angel turned at her hurt tone and finally looked at Buffy. She was vibrant and beautiful, almost more so than he remembered. There was a light in her eyes he could put no name to. She seemed to brighten the darkness around them. It made the pain on her face all the more horrible. Angel took her hands in his and looked into her strange eyes. "It is true. It always has been. In my heart, I'm always with you." 

Buffy placed a hand on his chest in a gesture that was achingly familiar. "Your soul is with me?" she asked softly, seeming almost childlike. 

"Yes," Angel whispered back. 

Buffy smiled sadly yet with understanding. "Not anymore, Angel. You can't stay here. You have to go back." 

"Here?" 

"Between places," Buffy explained. "I'm sorry. You can't follow me here." 

"I don't know how to go back," Angel said with certainty. 

"You have to." 

"Do you want me to go?" Angel asked softly. 

"I…you have to." 

"Do you want me to?" 

"I never wanted you to leave," Buffy whispered. It was barely audible. 

"Then I'll stay." 

Buffy smiled, but it was still tinged with sadness. "You can't stay forever." 

"Then as long as I can." 

She took his hand again and squeezed it slightly. "Walk with me?" 

* * *

  
**Part Three**

Cordelia was right. Though exhausted, she'd barely slept the last three nights. The mystery of Angel's condition consumed her thoughts every waking moment. She was spending more time in the office than she had in the last month. At least, so it seemed. When it wasn't her turn to keep an eye on Angel for any change she was doing her best to help on the research end of things. It was enough to make her wish that she'd been more studious back in high school. 

When she arrived at the apartment that morning Wesley was sitting in a chair he'd dragged into Angel's bedroom. A book was open in his lap but his eyes were closed and he was snoring softly. Not that it mattered. He'd slept even less than she had, and Angel wasn't going anywhere. 

The vampire in question was lying on his bed, of course. He laid on his back now, his eyes open and staring at the ceiling. The first time he had laid such Cordelia had thought he was actually coming out of whatever this was. Then she had seen that vacant look in his eyes. He was awake, but he saw nothing. For a man who'd been dead for over 200 years, he had never seemed so much like a corpse. Cordelia liked it much better when his eyes were closed. 

She entered the room quietly and laid a gentle hand on Wesley's shoulder. He jumped as he was startled awake. Seeing who was there he calmed and smiled guiltily. "I'm sorry," he began to stammer. 

Cordelia shrugged, too tired to do anything else. "No change?" she asked. 

"No change," Wesley agreed. He glanced over at the bed and sighed. "If this is anything like a human coma," he began to explain softly, "I fear that the longer he's like this the less likely he is to wake up." 

"In other words, you have no clue," Cordelia clarified. 

Wesley hesitated, then nodded slightly. "No clue," he agreed. 

Cordelia spun on her heel suddenly and began looking through Angel's shelves. She discarded the books and weapons and searched with almost an angry energy. Wesley followed her in confusion. 

"What are you doing?" Wesley asked after a moment. 

Cordelia's voice was harsh when she spoke. "I'm sick of this," she said, continuing to throw things around. "I'm sick of having no clue, of staring at Angel…." Her voice trailed off and she continued in a calmer tone. "I'm sick of feeling helpless." She reached onto a shelf then, and smiled slightly. She held up a bag of powder or something from the pile of ritual supplies with triumph shining in her eyes. 

"I'm going to get answers." 

* * *

  
**Part Four**

The gray felt familiar now, like an old enemy. It stretched in endless monotony, broken only by the path beneath Angel's feet. At times it seemed like cement, others cobblestone, but it was always the same gray as the mists around it. Angel had the strangest fear that it was leeching color from him as well and he would soon be as gray as everything else. 

Buffy though…she was the only spot of color in this world. She was vibrant and shining, too brilliant to be dimmed by even the darkest night. She was the Slayer – even the darkness she fought failed to dim her brilliance. Not even death…. 

Angel's unbeating heart clenched in sudden despair, and he closed his eyes as he fought against it. For a moment he had forgotten; forgotten the pain that would always plague him, forgotten the loneliness, forgotten that the one who walked beside him here was little more than a ghost. He felt himself slipping away and didn't care. 

"Angel!" Buffy's hands were harsh on his shoulders and he gasped as his eyes snapped open. He shook his head furiously. She was dead. She was dead…. 

The gray seemed to now be oppressive and dark. "Don't!" she snapped at him. "Don't become lost on my account. The world needs you. I need you. I need to know you're okay." 

"But you're dead," Angel whispered. He felt his cheeks grow damp. A soul's tears…. 

"Angel," Buffy whispered sadly. She touched the tears resting on his cheeks. "Don't cry for me," she begged. 

"I always will," he replied. "You were supposed to have a normal life. A long life." He'd given up everything for that. 

"Without you?" Buffy asked softly. 

Angel nodded. 

"But I never wanted that. I'd rather have a year of happiness with you than a lifetime of loneliness without you." As Angel began to sink further into despair, thinking of what they could have had, Buffy gently held his face in her hands. "I don't say this to make you regret what you did. It's just that…don't you think we're rewarded in the end?" 

"Not me," Angel replied in a barely audible whisper. 

"Especially you," Buffy said. "No one should have to live with the pain you have. You didn't have to fight – you had more of a choice than I did. But you fought. If anyone deserves some beauty and happiness in the end, it's you." 

"You are that beauty and happiness," Angel replied. 

Buffy smiled sadly. "Maybe," she whispered. Still holding his head, she leaned forward and caught his lips with her own. It overwhelmed him in an entirely new way. Souls touching, he could feel the love that they shared, the love that she held for him. He returned it – he always had – but now he could express it in a new way. *I love you* went unspoken, but was heard nonetheless. 

They broke away and Angel saw that love reflected in Buffy's eyes. She was smiling. "You still…?" Angel asked in surprise. 

"Always," Buffy replied. 

Angel blinked as if in a daze. They gray was changed, glowing as if lit by sunlight. The scent of flowers and growth hung in the air, welcoming and warm. It was no longer the absence of color, but the potential for all color. There was an air of contentment all around them. A moment ago this place had perfectly reflected the anguish he'd held in his heart. Now it shown with the love and joy that had replaced that sadness. Angel looked at Buffy in surprise and wonder. 

She smiled. "Love transforms," was all she said. 

* * *

  
**Part Five**

"You should not be here," scolded the male oracle. 

"Yeah, well, the guy who's allowed to talk to you is comatose, so you'll just have to talk to me," Cordelia snapped back, hands on her hips. 

The Oracles looked at each other for a moment, their heads tilted in silent communication. After a moment the woman looked back at Cordelia. "We will hear you out, mortal," she said. "What have you brought us?" 

Cordelia fished in her pocket for a moment before withdrawing a small statue. "It's old," she said with a shrug. "He won't miss it." *Especially not at the moment,* she reflected. 

The statue flew out of her hand, and where it went after the Oracle got it she did not see. 

"What do you ask of us?" the man asked after a moment. 

"What's wrong with Angel?" Cordelia demanded. 

"He sleeps and does not wake." 

"He wakes but does not see." 

Cordelia made a sound of annoyance. "I could have told you that much," she muttered. Seeing the female Oracle gazing at her oddly, Cordelia amended her statement. "I mean, how can we…snap him out of this?" 

"You can not," the woman replied. 

"What?!" 

"Only he can choose to return to you," the man explained. "Only he can walk the necessary paths." 

Cordelia was confused. She knew they would be cryptic, but…. "Return from where?" 

"He walks with she whose blood he shares." 

*Okay, that was helpful,* Cordelia thought sarcastically. She didn't think they'd appreciate a response of 'huh?' though, so she floundered for another question. "Will he…return?" 

"He must return," the man said, "or all may be lost." 

Cordelia felt herself pale. That didn't sound good. "Can…. Is there anything I can do to help him? Or you can do to help him?" 

The woman shook her head. "Only one can help him now," she said, "and she may not wish to." 

* * *

  
**Part Six**

They lay together as if joined in a lovers' embrace, content to simply be together as they rested from their walking. There was no fatigue in this place, but they had decided without speaking to rest in the shelter of the love they had created. After all, there was no time here. It did not matter if they stopped along the way. The same final destination would still await them. 

Angel did not bother to think about those final destinations. It lurked in the back of his mind that he and Buffy would not end in the same place. He was not dead, per say; he could wander the ghost roads forever, a lost soul. That knowledge and the despair over Buffy's death constantly lurked like a dark shadow, but as long as they rested here that end need not arrive. 

They lay in tender silence for a long time before Angel spoke of something that had been on his mind, since… "It wasn't supposed to be this way," he whispered. 

Buffy looked at his with odd seriousness. "Who's to say how it should be?" she said. 

Angel shook his head, floundering for words. "No…the…choice I made…you were supposed to live." 

Buffy smiled sadly. "I'm the Slayer, Angel. This is my fate," she explained. "Nothing…not where you were, not *what* you were…made any difference in the end." 

Gazing at the sympathy in Buffy's gaze, Angel came to a realization. "You remember." 

"Yes," Buffy said clearly. "I remember…that day. The day you were human." 

"But…" 

Buffy interrupted him. "Maybe I blocked it out. Maybe it was buried in my subconscious. But do you really think the soul could forget something like that?" 

Angel shook his head, once again hovering at the edge of despair. "No," he whispered brokenly. "I could never forget." 

"And neither could I," Buffy replied. She held him close, comforting him and lending him strength. "Treasure that day, Angel," she said. "It was a beautiful thing. Don't weep over the days we didn't have. Love the one we did." 

Angel kissed her lightly, warmed by her words. "I always will." 

* * *

  
**Part Seven**

"I'm going to kill him!" Cordelia yelled as she stormed back into the office. 

Wesley looked at her in confusion. "Who? Not Angel, surely…." 

"Not him," Cordelia replied testily, rummaging through her desk. "Giles!" 

Now Wesley was really confused. "Um, Giles? I don't understand. Did you see the Oracles? What did they tell you?" 

Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Yes, I saw them," she said, dialing the phone as she spoke. "As for what they said…." She paused and waited for the phone to connect. Wesley jumped when she spoke again. "Don't you people know how to use a phone?!" she yelled at whoever answered. 

Wesley was so glad this anger wasn't directed at him. 

Cordelia looked beyond annoyed. "I'm putting you on the speaker phone so I can yell at you properly," she said, then viciously pressed the button on the phone. 

"-delia," came Giles' weary voice. "What is this all about? This is really…" 

"Not a good time?" Cordelia demanded. "You too busy with the funeral you didn't bother to tell us about?" 

Wesley paled. "Funeral?" he gasped. "Who…?" 

"Hmm?" Cordelia said. "Are you going to tell him?" No answer, or at least not a coherent one. "Fine, I'll do it. It's Buffy. She *is* dead, right Giles?" 

A long moment of silence. "Yes. How…?" 

"When?" asked Wesley. 

"No, don't answer that." Cordelia was glaring at the telephone. "Let's say…last Friday night? About 9:15 pm?" When Giles didn't respond, she continued angrily. "Why didn't you tell us, huh? Didn't think we'd care? Or are we a disgrace to have around? Not *appropriate* to have a vampire at the Slayer's funeral no matter what the circumstances are, is that it?" 

Giles sounded decidedly flustered. "I…I'm sorry." 

"Do you hear that?" Cordelia asked Wesley sarcastically. "He's sorry. Sorry for what, Giles?" 

"Cordelia, please!" Giles interrupted wearily. "I am sorry. Sorry…that I did not think to inform you of what had happened. I should have. The truth is…since Buffy died…it's been hard. We've been too busy…." 

"With what?!" Cordelia yelled, obviously not caring. "Vampires, demons, the end of the world? What else is new?!" 

"Well, yes," Giles agreed. There was another long silence. "The end of the world," he said in a whisper. Then, stronger but hesitant, "I hate to ask you this, but, with Buffy…gone, we need your help." 

"Don't you mean Angel's help?" Cordelia said softly, only her eyes showing her anger now. 

"Well, yes." 

"Sorry, but he's unable to come to the phone right now," Cordelia said, her voice eerily calm. 

"Cordelia!" Giles replied in stern annoyance. 

"No!" Cordelia yelled back. "You listen here, Giles! Friday night…about 9:15 pm…we were out demon hunting when Angel collapsed. Actually, to be more correct, he screamed and *then* he collapsed – and I can go a long time without hearing a scream like that again. But the point is this – Angel hasn't spoken a word since then. He lies in bed, not seeing anything, not hearing anything…. So, no Giles, we won't help you. We can't even help him. God help us all if the world comes to an end because of this." 

"Good lord," Giles said in shock. 

That only made Cordelia angrier. "Do you know how hard it is to force feed a vampire?!" she yelled. "Not to mention disgusting." 

"I…I'm sorry," Giles sputtered. 

"You're going to have to do better than that," Cordelia said back coldly. "Angel's the one you should really be apologizing to, and he won't hear a word you say. And you know what? Neither will I." 

It didn't matter who hung up the phone first. There was nothing else to be said anyway. 

* * *

  
**Part Eight**

Neither night nor day ever came to the gray reality where Angel walked. Still, it had seemed brighter since they recognized their love for each other. How long ago was that? Time had no meaning…. An eternity. A moment. 

They were getting to know their new reality, playing with it as a child might play with clay. They had learned that they could transform it with their thoughts, create things out of the mists. They produced trinkets for each other, signs of devotion, and laughed in silent pleasure at each other's company. 

They were walking again, the mind giving new forms to their paths. Ill-defined gardens and pleasure walks…pleasant places…hinted at the corners of their vision. It was thus that they discovered something about this place that spoke about the very nature of it. 

"I want to show you something," Buffy whispered on day…night…whatever. 

"Alright," Angel whispered back, sensing something interesting in her mood. 

She leaned close and kissed him, surprising him. After a moment he responded eagerly, closing his eyes and let the moment of togetherness and passion sweep all thoughts from his mind. Even when the kiss ended they simply held each other for a minute, comfortable in each other's arms. There were few places that felt so perfect. 

When Angel opened his eyes again he saw Buffy smiling up at him. Her eyes were filled with happiness that he could not help but share. Thus it was that he was lost in her eyes and did not at first notice the changes in everything around them. 

The place where they stood was darker now, but not the oppressive dark gray of when they first arrived here. Rather it was the darkness of a room with windows to the night outside. The soft sound of rain echoed on the windowpanes. Angel looked around in surprise. He knew this place. It was his old apartment, the one night he and Buffy had been together before everything changed. It was different though. It seemed to glow, filled with a tangible sense of love and joy. Was this how it still was in Buffy's mind? 

"Treasure every moment we had," she whispered in his ear. "I do." 

Angel nodded. He understood. "Nothing lasts forever." 

* * *

  
**Part Nine**

Cordelia was sitting pensively at Angel's bedside. His eyes were closed, thankfully, but that provided little relief. She knew that there was nothing she could do, knew that he'd have to wake up in his own time, but at the same time she *knew* that if he didn't wake up soon they were all doomed. 

"And I'm sick of playing nursemaid!" Cordelia said, her voice sounding unnaturally loud in the quiet room. 

There was no response, but she wasn't expecting one. Angel hadn't moved in two days now, a fact that was beginning to worry Cordelia. Oh, if his eyes were open then you could make him move, but he didn't even roll over of his own free will anymore. He was terribly pale, like a ghost. She didn't think it was possible for him to get paler, but he had. 

"I hope you're happy where you are," Cordelia said to him in a harsh almost-whisper. "Wherever it is, it must be better than here." Cordelia looked at the comatose vampire for a response and, getting none, kept talking. "I spoke to Giles again today. I think he's feeling bad for not speaking to us *before* Buffy's funeral. So now he's telling me *everything* that's going on. And…it's not good, Angel. 

"You know how Buffy died, I think. A group of demons, trying to end the world. Doesn't that get repetitive to them? Anyway, it was one ritual in a series of many. Just preparation for the big shebang. They needed to sacrifice a natural witch for one. Buffy barely managed to rescue Willow." 

She didn't know why she was telling him this, but she needed to. Maybe, somehow, he'd actually hear her and realize how much he was needed. Maybe he'd come back. "With Buffy gone, though…. They still managed to complete their ritual. They got a friend of Willow's, a girl named Tara. So, now the demons are stronger than before and one step closer to Armageddon. The Slayerettes are a basket case. The Initiative is being decimated by the demons and is about to run for the hills." 

She paused for dramatic effect. "And you're unconscious." She glared at the vampire even though he couldn't see her. "If you don't snap out of this soon…. You can forget about 'redemption,' Angel, because the whole world is going to Hell." 

(I'm working on Book 2 - The Chariot as I post this) 


	3. Book Two: The Chariot

#  The Wheel

##  _Book Two: The Chariot_

###  by [Cynamin][1]

Disclaimers: I don't own them. You did know that, right? Oh, and I borrowed the concept of the ghostroads from The Gatekeeper Trilogy of Buffy books by Christopher Golden and Nancy Holder…but then I sort of adapted them to fit my story… The tarot images and definitions are from the "Ancestral Path Tarot" by Julie Cuccia-Watts, with text by Tracey Hoover. All are used without permission. I think I own everything else, but I could be wrong. 

Spoilers: IWRY is the only episode directly mentioned. Aside from that, general season 4/season 1 – before Willow and Tara were together, and before Riley ever heard about Angel.   
Content: *Major* character death, angst, and B/A fluff. NutMeg called it "sad fluff." Isn't that an odd combination?   
Distribution: Just ask. I won't say no.   
Notes: Another dream inspired fic. Feel free to run and hide now. Special thanks to NutMeg for beta reading this for me! You really helped my confidence with this story. 

A note on the format of this story: Since this is a rather long fic, or will be eventually, and the parts are very short, it is divided into sections. Think like a novel that is divided into books and then into chapters. So, "The Wheel" is one story. Don't let the "book" titles confuse you.   


* * *

  
**Part One**

The office of Angel investigations was entirely too quiet. Usually, even if Angel were asleep, there would have been something going on. Cordelia would have been sitting at her desk, possibly filing or something, but most likely filing her nails and waiting for the phone to ring. This empty office? It just wasn't what Kate was expecting when she opened the door just after sundown. 

The reception area was completely dark. There was obviously someone here as evidenced by the jacket flung over the back of one of the chairs, but that was it. A large pile of unopened mail was sitting on the desk. The answering machine showed new messages with a red blinking light. Kate wondered how long it had been since the machine had been checked, as she had left two messages in the last week herself. 

"Hello?" Kate called into the silent office. She half expected Angel to step out of the shadows. He didn't. 

She peeked into the smaller office looking for him. It was even darker in here, the shades drawn tight like usual. Not like usual was the thin layer of dust that lay over everything. She stepped from the office and called out again. This time she got an answer. 

"What do you want?" Cordelia asked testily, standing at the top of the stairs. 

Kate didn't let her surprise show. Cordelia looked tired, her scowl half-hearted and mostly weary. Her usually impeccable clothing was wrinkled and she wore very little make up. Mostly, though, she just seemed annoyed to see Kate there. "I was hoping to talk to Angel," she explained. 

"Well, you can't," Cordelia replied bluntly. "Maybe in several days…or longer." As she turned to go back downstairs, Kate heard her mutter to herself, "If the world doesn't come to an end first." 

"Cordelia, wait!" But the girl had already started back down the stairs. So Kate did the only thing she could – she followed. "Cordelia, it's important!" 

Cordelia spun around at the bottom of the stairs, stopping the police detective in her tracks. "I said go away!" she nearly yelled. "Unless it's the apocalypse, I can't help you!" 

"I don't need your help," Kate said calmly, trying to placate the angry young woman. "I just want to talk to Angel." 

"Talk to Angel, huh?" Cordelia replied quietly, the fight in her disappearing and leaving her looking merely exhausted. "Fine, talk to him. He won't hear you, but you can talk yourself blue for all I care." 

Kate took in the statements without comment though she wanted to demand what was going on. She knew that if she pushed too far she'd loose her very thin welcome. So she followed Cordelia in silence. 

She stopped just in the doorway of Angel's bedroom. This suddenly felt highly awkward. Yes, she'd been here before, but there had been no one here then. Now she was with both of Angel's coworkers. Cordelia entered the room ahead of her and spoke quietly to Wesley, sitting with a large book next to the bed. Then there was Angel, laying still on the bed, the presence of so many people in his room not even making him stir. 

Kate could not stop the gasp from escaping his throat. "How long has he been like this?" 

Cordelia looked up from her quiet conference to glance at the comatose vampire. "A bit over a week," she said in a voice eerily devoid of emotion. "So you can go now, Kate, because he's *not* going to hear you." 

Kate swallowed hard. She'd run Angel though the stomach with a plank of wood before and he'd managed to walk away. What in the world had happened to get him like this? She asked as much. 

"Grief," replied Wesley distractedly. 

Kate stared at him blankly. 

When it was clear she wasn't going to go anywhere, Cordelia sighed and led Kate from the room. "Listen," she said gently, "the full story is none of your business, but the short story is that – as far as we know – Angel felt someone he cares about die suddenly and he's been like this ever since. So I hope whatever you needed wasn't important, because none of us are in any condition to help you right now." 

Kate nodded. "It's all right," she said. "Just help him." 

Cordelia sighed. "I'm trying," she muttered. 

There was an odd look on her face, and Kate knew that whatever Cordelia had been trying, it wasn't working. She hesitated to give advice where it wasn't welcome, but… "Have you tried taking him away from this place?" 

"What?" Cordelia asked in confusion. 

Kate shrugged. "Whatever this is that's keeping him…unconscious, it's probably psychological. I mean, nothing physical would effect him like this, right?" Cordelia nodded. "Then maybe a change of scenery will snap him out of it. Is there anyplace you could take Angel that might…mean more to him than here?" 

Cordelia smiled then, and Kate knew she'd had the right idea.   


* * *

  
**Part Two**

They were walking again. They existed in that sort of comfortable familiarity, the easy silence only lovers seem to share. The conventional title didn't seem to work, though. None of them ever had for them. They were soulmates, best friends, siblings of the heart…. The labels didn't matter. They were *together.* 

Angel stumbled suddenly. Buffy caught his arm and looked at him in concern. "I'm fine," he insisted, and stood tall beside her. She had a frown on her face, but let it pass. 

He wasn't all right though. He was feeling weaker as time went on and he was pretty sure Buffy could tell. Neither of them said anything about it, though. They knew what it meant – their time together in this place was about to come to an end one way or another. Neither of them wanted to think about that, though. *Treasure every moment.* 

Buffy squeezed his hand with a small, sad smile on her face. Yes, they knew. They just wouldn't admit it to themselves. She stood still, and their endless walking came to a rest for a moment. "I want to ask you something," she said softly. 

"Go ahead," Angel said. He hadn't even the slightest worry about what she might ask. 

"Why *did* you leave me?" At Angel's surprised look, she tried to clarify. "I don't mean the 'erasing the day' thing. I understand why you did that. No, I mean Sunnydale. Why *did* you leave?" 

"I told you," Angel said softly. 

"So tell me again," Buffy replied with the infinite patience only the dead can have. 

Angel looked down as he thought for a moment. He looked up again, no doubt in his gaze or his words. "I couldn't give you what you needed…a normal life. Children, a future, someone to grow old with…someone you could make love to. I…could never have given you everything that you wanted." 

She smiled, that sad smile that had become so familiar now. "All I wanted was you, Angel. You should have known that." 

He shook his head in denial. "You're the Slayer. You should have had something…someone normal. Someone who belonged in the light." 

"I'm the Slayer. My life is darkness. The same darkness you dwell in. That's why we always fit so well together." She stepped closer to him, searching his face. "What was it *you* wanted that made you need to leave?" 

"You don't understand," Angel said softly. "Everything I wanted, I wanted for you. There wasn't anything else." 

"Show me," she whispered, leaning close. "Show me what you wanted." She kissed him then, and Angel let his eyes close and his mind wander. He painted a picture in his mind of the ideal moments they had never had, that they could never have. It was too late now, after all. 

When they had opened their eyes again the gray had taken on a peculiar sort of glow as of the sunlight through mist. The ground was grass covered now and speckled with wild flowers. Hills stretched out beyond their vision, wooded in the distance. Close at hand stood a large tree, its branches creating ample shade over a blanket and an overstuffed picnic basket. It had a peculiar undefined quality, like a dream. 

Buffy took the sight in and laughed lightly. "A picnic, Angel? Isn't that a bit…mundane?" 

Angel took her hand and led her onto the blanket. "There's more than enough darkness in the world. Isn't there a need for something mundane in life?" 

"Sometimes," Buffy agreed, sitting down in front of the picnic basket. She smiled and pulled him down next to her. "Let's see what you packed for us," she said and began taking out the food. Sandwiches, fruit, usual sort of stuff. For dessert…. "Chocolate and peanut butter?" Buffy asked with a chuckle. 

"Ice cream would have melted," Angel explained with a grin. 

Buffy smiled back. She reached the bottom of the basket and quirked an eyebrow at him as she lifted out the last item in the basket. It was a wooden stake. "Always prepared?" she asked with a grin. 

He would have replied then, but a sound – so familiar to these dreams, but foreign to his unlife – interrupted them both. Laughter, high and childish, near at hand, made Buffy's eyes go wide. Angel stood and helped her up, leading her around the large tree to look down the hill. 

The dreamlike quality was even stronger now, a non-reality bordering on the surreal. It was a scene that was too bright, too happy, and completely out of context with either of their lives. There stood a house, large but not too big, in an old style. Two children were playing on a swing set in the backyard. The eldest and clear leader of the pair was a girl of about seven years old with long dark hair. A smaller boy of about five followed her closely. The boy stopped for a moment and turned to look up the hill at Buffy and Angel. He smiled and waved, then chased after his sister once again. 

Buffy turned to look at Angel, her eyes shining. Angel nodded and squeezed her hand. There were no words between them. Looking into her eyes, Angel let reality slip away.   


* * *

  
**Part Three**

They arrived in Sunnydale around nine o'clock the next night. The small town was eerily quiet. If what Giles had said was right the majority of the inhabitants had been frightened indoors by the recent rash of murders and the demons were laying low between rituals. The only ones in town, actually, that weren't laying low were the Scooby Gang…or at least, what was left of it. 

So, around nine o'clock at night, Angel's convertible pulled up in Giles' driveway with Wesley at the wheel. No one came out to great them, though they knew they were coming and the lights showed that someone was home. As soon as the car stopped Cordelia climbed out, followed quickly by Wesley. It was a bit of a struggle to get Angel from the backseat, but they managed. Once they got him to his feet between them, they half carried, half dragged him into the house. 

Giles answered the door quickly when Wesley knocked. His eyes went wide but he recovered quickly. He'd received too many shocks lately not to. "Come in," he said quickly, standing aside. 

Cordelia stumbled in the doorway and almost went down under Angel's weight. Giles was at his side quickly. 

"Let me," he said and took over for her. Giles and Wesley manhandled Angel into another room and Cordelia slumped into a vacant chair. 

Once she caught her breath she took a look at the gathering. Everyone was there, old and new. Willow, Xander, Anya…a boy she didn't know, so that must have been Riley…. Still, for so many people in one place they were remarkably subdued. Everyone sported minor injuries; bruises and scrapes. Riley looked the worst out of them, a bandage on his head and a large bruise on the side of his face. Everyone looked exhausted. 

Giles and Wesley came back into the room a couple of moments later. "Well," Giles said as he sat down, "I have to admit I did not completely believe you until I saw for myself." 

"What, you thought I was lying about Angel's condition?" Cordelia replied, somewhere between angry and hurt. 

"No!" Giles said quickly. "It's just…. He looks awful, Cordelia." 

*So do you,* she thought, but didn't say it. They'd all been through hell lately, and she did have *some* sensitivity. 

There was a long silence. "Hopefully being back in Sunnydale will do him some good," Wesley said. "Until then, Cordelia and I had best help you with your current crisis." 

"Yes, that would be best," Giles agreed. "We're trying to determine…" 

"Hold on a second!" Cordelia interrupted. "We just got here." She looked at all of them seriously, but mostly at Giles. "I want…I want to see Buffy's grave. Before anything else happens." 

Giles looked at her in surprise. "Yes…of course." He paused for a second. "You shouldn't go alone." 

"I'd take Angel with me," Cordelia replied testily, "but he's in no condition…" 

"He'd…want to see Buffy's grave," Willow said in a barely audible whisper. 

The room fell silent as that sank in. 

"I'll go with them," Riley said finally. 

Cordelia looked at his injuries with an odd expression. 

"I can still shoot straight," he said. "And I'll help you get Angel there, too." 

Cordelia nodded, and the rest of them returned to their silent research.   


* * *

  
**Part Four**

Night came softly, if night could ever come to a place like this. Angel smiled as he walked beside Buffy. The moment was serene, and they were together. If there was something wrong with this situation, Angel gave it no thought. Where they had come from or where they were going didn't matter. 

Buffy was watching him oddly. "Angel?" 

"Hmm?" 

Her face showed a multitude of emotions he could only begin to guess at. "Do you remember one of the times…I left you? After the whole affair with Spike, I said 'What I want from you I can never have.'" 

"Yes," Angel said, his smile altering only for a moment. "Why bring it up now? It doesn't matter anymore. We're together now." 

"It does matter!" Buffy said in surprise. "What I want, what you want…it always matters. That's part of the problem between us. We always wanted impossible things. The sunlight, the children? We wanted everything…and ended up with nothing." 

"We have everything," Angel protested, and smiled, dismissing her comments. 

"Angel," Buffy said urgently, "you know that isn't true. *This* isn't real." 

Angel looked at her blankly. It felt real. They were together. It had to be real. 

"I wish this could go on forever," Buffy whispered sadly, "but it's already gone on too long. This isn't real. You have to go back." 

Her words made no sense. They should have, but they didn't. "Back?" 

"Yes, Angel, back," Buffy said patiently. "Remember? They need you. If you don't go back now, you'll be lost to them forever. You'll be lost to me forever, too." 

An inexplicable sadness seemed to seep into Angel's mind. "I don't want to go back," he whispered harshly. 

"I know," Buffy said, taking hold of both his hands. "You have to though, remember? We belong to the world, not to each other. You said that once. The world needs you now." 

The words, the familiar words, broke through the fog Angel had willed himself into. "But you're not there," he whispered. "I'm so lonely." 

Buffy pulled him into a strong hug. "I'd return with you if I could," she whispered in his ear. 

"You would?" 

"Yes. I wish, just once, that I could stop the world from ending with you once again." She pulled back and Angel could see their surroundings once again. The faint forms of gravestones seemed to rise from the mist. "It's your responsibility now. There is no changing my reality, but don't let *this* become everyone else's." 

She led him by the hand then into the cemetery, becoming more real by the moment. Angel knew where it was now. He and Buffy had patrolled there together often enough. Of the cemeteries in Sunnydale, it was one of the newest. Buffy led him in silence to the newest part of the cemetery. There were more new graves there than there should have been. Flowers left by families were on over half the graves here, and Angel's shoes disturbed the freshly dug soil. Not Buffy's, though; she left no footprints. 

"This is reality," Buffy explained after a moment. 

"No…" Not this busy cemetery, not this gravestone…. 

Buffy stopped him, the marker between them. :Yes. *This* is reality. You have to go back now." 

Angel looked at the gravestone, at the name he'd always known he'd see there someday. The name he'd dreaded seeing. Now it was real. He could feel the cold stone, the texture of her name carved in the granite. "Will we ever be together again?" he asked Buffy in a whisper. 

"Maybe," Buffy replied, seeming the element of the dream within the harsh reality of the cemetery. "I hope so. But not today." She leaned forward to catch his lips in one last tender kiss…. 

And then she was gone, and Angel was alone. Alone in a darkness that echoed from deep within himself. Alone with her grave standing in silent tribute to the woman who had captured his heart and soul. For the first time since he'd seen her years before, he was truly alone. 

Angel sank to his knees in the fresh dirt. Together in body and soul, Angel cried in mourning.   


* * *

  
**Part Five**

It was curiosity more than anything else that led Riley to volunteer to accompany Cordelia to the cemetery. It had only been after Buffy's death that he had finally learned about Angel, the vampire with a soul she'd been so involved with. He understood now the things she would never tell him, the part of herself he could never get close to. That was where the vampire had still dwelled in her; where she still held on to him and could not let go. 

So it was that Riley felt more than his share of curiosity – and jealousy, perhaps – when the vampire appeared at the door. Yet looking at the handsome, older man whose gaze had become a vacant stare at Buffy's death, the curiosity only grew stronger. So under the guise of keeping her safe, he accompanied Cordelia and helped her take Angel to Buffy's gravesite. 

Cordelia wasn't very talkative, though. Wearily she supported Angel as best she could over the uneven ground of the cemetery. They reached Buffy's grave in silence. Once Angel was propped up, standing with just a bit of support from Cordelia, Riley moved back to let them have time to themselves. 

Riley watched the area for vampires and demons. After all, that's what he said he was coming along for. He drew his weapon and watched the darkness. Nothing moved in the unnaturally still night. 

A cry drew his attention after several minutes. It was not the animalistic cry of a demon though, but the anguished cry of a man. Riley turned back to the gravesite to see that Angel had fallen. Riley was about to help Cordelia until he saw that she supported Angel, not because he'd finally lost his strength, but because real grief had taken it from him. She held Angel as his shoulders shook with sobs, saying nothing but comforting him as best she could. 

Time passed slowly until finally the vampire pulled away, the first movement Riley had seen him make on his own. Cordelia looked at him with concern in her eyes. 

"I'll be alright," Angel assured her, wiping the last of the tears from his cheeks. 

She glared at him. "Don't lie to me," she scolded. 

"I didn't say *when* I'd be alright," Angel replied honestly. "But I'm…okay for now." 

"Yeah, sure," Cordelia replied. 

Angel climbed slowly to his feet. He swayed unsteadily, and Cordelia jumped up and grasped his arm to help him. 

"Easy," she said softly. "You've been in bed for over a week." 

Angel looked at her in surprise. "Over a week?" 

Riley chose that moment to draw their attention. "Since Friday before last." 

Cordelia looked back and forth between Angel and Riley uneasily. This could be very awkward. "Angel, this is Riley." 

Riley offered his hand and Angel shook it lightly. The vampire's eyes were no longer vacant, but filled with a grief Riley could only begin to understand. They let each other's hands go in silence. 

"What day is it?" Angel asked finally. 

"Tuesday," Cordelia replied. 

They stood in silence for a moment. Angel's gave returned to the gravestone and looked pained. 

"We can't stay here," Riley said finally. "It's too dangerous." 

Angel nodded and glanced at the grave. "Goodbye, love," he whispered and stepped away. 

After two steps he stumbled and nearly fell. Riley caught him and supported him with an arm around his shoulders. Their eyes met. The two men, both in love with the same woman, reached a silent understanding in that moment that they could never explain afterwards. There was nothing to be jealous of anymore, when all was done. Buffy was dead, and they were going to have to work together if they weren't going to join her.   


* * *

  
**Part Six**

Of all the things that Angel had been through lately, this felt the least real. Walking through Sunnydale, the town he'd thought he's left for good a year ago, with Cordelia on one side and the boy who'd taken his place with his girl on the other…it was as strange as the knowledge that girl was dead. The girl whose life he'd done everything to prevent. The girl whose grave was forever etched into his mind. 

Angel was exhausted, physically and emotionally. Lying in bed for a week and a half with very little to eat certainly hadn't done his strength any good. Not a good thing with the end of the world imminent. Still, Angel knew himself. A couple of days at the most, blood, exercise…and he'd be fine. 

That took care of his physical well-being. Emotional? Dealing with that would have to wait. 

Giles opened the door almost before they could finish knocking. For a moment they all stood there in silence. Not that there was much to say… 

"Hey Giles," Angel said softly. 

Cordelia and Riley let him go as soon as they were in the door. As everyone watched him, he slowly crossed the room and sank into the couch. 

"Looks like visiting the cemetery did Dead Boy some good," Xander said in half-hearted sarcasm. 

"It's good to see you, too," Angel replied. 

"It's good to see you, Angel," whispered Willow. She was quiet even for her. 

Wesley stepped from the other room then. "Giles, the book of…" He glanced up and lost his train of thought. "Angel! You're…" 

Angel smiled though it was filled with sadness. "I'm okay, Wes." He looked at Giles. "Do you want to explain what's going on? I'm…a bit behind." 

"They're called the Cult of Spikura," Giles said quickly. They did not have much time, after all. "They are dedicated to bringing about-" 

"The end of the world," Cordelia finished. 

Angel nodded in understanding. "The End of Days." 

"Well, yes, exactly…" 

Anya yawned loudly. "Is it happening *today*, Giles?" 

"Not as far as I can tell." 

"Then can we go home and sleep? You can talk all about it tomorrow…no wait, that *is* today. But the rest of us have heard it already," Anya said bluntly. 

Giles looked at them all uncertainly. Who knew how long they had? 

"It's alright," Angel said. "It's not as if I can do anything else in the daytime. You could come explain everything then." 

"Where will you stay?" Giles asked. 

"The mansion." 

Everyone nodded, except for Riley who looked at them in confusion. "Mansion?" 

"You know that big old place on Crawford Street?" At Riley's nod, Cordelia continued smugly, "That's Angel's." 

The Scooby Gang dispersed soon afterwards. Finally only Angel, Cordelia, and Wesley were left in the driveway standing next to Angel's car. Angel leaned wearily against the car door. "You drive, Wesley," he said softly. 

A hand touched his shoulder. Angel looked up to meet Cordelia's eyes. "Are you okay?" she asked. 

Angel's eyes were sad as he looked past her at the familiar town. Every place in it was one more memory of Buffy. If they survived, he was going to leave Sunnydale forever after the battles were over. It was just too hard. "What do you think?" 

Cordelia nodded sympathetically. "Yeah."   


* * *

  
**Part Seven**

Visiting the mansion after so long was very strange. It looked abandoned…but then, it always had. Still, she knew that inside would be dusty and worn. Willow could still see in her mind the last time she had been here. She could see Angel suffering from the effects of Faith's poison. It made her shiver. 

She was very glad for the sun shining outside. 

Only Angel's car in the driveway showed her that anyone was here. None of the rest of the gang was here yet, but that was the way she wanted it. She needed to speak to Angel alone. She only hoped he was awake. 

The door opened only moments after Willow knocked hesitantly. For a second she glanced into the open doorway in confusion, not seeing anyone. Her eyes adjusted to the darkened interior and she spotted Angel standing behind the door, out of reach of the sunlight. 

"Hey," she said softly in greeting as Angel closed the door behind her. "I wasn't sure you'd be awake." 

"I couldn't sleep," he replied just as softly. "Though…I guess that's not too surprising with the last week and all." 

There was a long moment of silence between them. 

"You're early," Angel said at last. 

"I needed to talk to you." 

Angel nodded and the two of them walked deeper into the house. They sat facing each other on the couch. Angel waited patiently for Willow to begin to speak. 

"You're looking better," Willow said, trying to figure out where to begin. 

"I recover fast," Angel explained. "But you didn't come here to talk about my health." 

Willow was silent for another moment. "It…has to do with Buffy's death." Angel nodded but said nothing. Willow swallowed hard. "When…the doctors were trying to save her, she called out to me. I don't know what she was talking about. She said… 'tell him I never forgot.' No one has a clue, and you're the only *him* left I can think of." 

An odd look crossed Angel's face. He sighed and sank back into the cushions of the couch. He looked tired, and instantly smaller. 

"It does mean something to you!" Willow exclaimed. Angel nodded silently. "Are you going to tell me what it is?" 

"It doesn't matter," Angel said dismissively. 

"Yes, it does," Willow disagreed. "It matters to you." When Angel still didn't respond, Willow sighed. "We've got a big battle coming. It may be the biggest yet. And…we don't have Buffy this time. Which means we're really going to need to work as a group. Anything that effects one of us could effect all of us." 

When Angel did not reply or even look at her, Willow came to a decision. "I blame myself for Buffy's death," she blurted. 

Angel's head shot up and he stared at her. "You couldn't possibly-" 

Willow's gaze stopped his words. "I was the first one to be captured. It was stupid, really. I walked out after dark…. I thought I was prepared for vampires…but crosses and holy water did no good against these guys. Not stakes either…I tried to get one of the ones that came after me that day. We had no clue there was anything unusual going on in Sunnydale before that. So Buffy was totally unprepared when she came to rescue me. And she died for it." 

"You can't blame yourself for her death," Angel said finally. "Buffy would have done the same for anyone she knew. And anyone she didn't know, for that matter." Angel stared at his hands for a moment. "Maybe it was just her time." 

Willow smiled sadly. "Are you trying to convince me or yourself?" 

Angel met her empty smile. "Both, I think." He looked her in the eyes. "There's something else." 

Willow nodded. "Someone else died…in my place. Someone I knew. She was a friend of mine, and when the demons needed a witch and lost me…she died instead." They gazed at each other in silence for a long moment. There was really nothing for Angel to say to that. Except… "Well, I've told you what I hadn't told anyone else. Are you going to tell me what's bothering you now?"   


* * *

  
**Part Eight**

Angel's gaze dropped back to his hands and a silence stretched between them. "'I never forgot,'" he whispered. "For some reason I'm not surprised. She…was near death, after all. 'The soul never forgets.'" He sighed. "But you have no clue what I'm talking about. You told me your story, and I suppose I owe you the same. 

"It was when Buffy came to see me over Thanksgiving. Did Buffy…ever tell you about the demon that attacked us?" 

"She didn't say much about seeing you," Willow said, unsure of how Angel would react. 

Angel just nodded, though, as if he'd expected as much. "Well, to explain…Buffy didn't just visit for five minutes. She was there for five minutes and a day…except the day didn't happen." 

To say that Willow was confused would have been an over-simplification. "What…didn't happen?" 

Angel leaned back on the couch and did not meet her gaze. "A demon crashed through the window while we were talking. The first time – we fought it but it got away. We tracked it into the sewers. I caught up with it, fought it, thought I killed it…and when I stabbed it some of its blood mixed with mine. It made me human." 

Willow gasped and Angel's gaze met her own. "Huh?" she squeaked, flustered by Angel's revelation. "I mean…what?" 

Angel smiled a touch bitterly. "You heard me," he said softly. "It was real. Heartbeat, hunger, reflection… Do you have any idea how strange it is to suddenly see yourself after 200 years?" 

"And you were with Buffy," Willow said in understanding. 

Angel just nodded. 

"So what happened?" At Angel's odd look, she tried to amend her statement. "I mean…uh, that is…what went wrong?" 

"The demon didn't die," Angel said after a moment. "I tried to kill it for real, but I was too weak…. I found out Buffy would die when the End of Days came. So I asked the Oracles to turn back the day so that I could kill the demon before it made me human. And…that was that." 

A silence stretched between them again. "But…Buffy did die in the End of Days," Willow said after a moment. 

"Exactly." 

"So you've been doubting your decision." 

Again Angel nodded. "If she was meant to die anyway…couldn't we have had those several months of happiness together?" 

"Maybe not," Willow said. "Maybe if you'd been human you'd both have been killed. We've got a big battle coming, and we're going to need you. The world needs you. Where will we be if you aren't there to fight?" 

Angel smiled very slightly then. "Same to you," he said. 

"What?" 

"Maybe you're needed when all this goes down, too." 

"Me?" Willow squeaked. "But Tara…" 

"Isn't used to working with this group," Angel interrupted. "Am I right in assuming that she was not used to doing magic in…a combat situation?" At Willow's nod, Angel continued. "You're a powerful witch, Willow. You've done a lot of good. You restored my soul. So don't doubt your importance. Don't regret that you lived." 

Willow nodded. "Will you do the same for me?" 

"What's that?" 

"No regrets, Angel." 

It was a big thing to ask and for a moment Angel did not reply. But regrets got in the way of fighting and there was some major fighting ahead. 

Finally Angel answered as best he could. "Only small ones," he said.   


* * *

  
**Part Nine**

Willow went to speak to Cordelia and Wesley, leaving Angel alone once again. Not that he minded; he was already *alone.* Why not make it a literal and not just an emotional truth? 

The talk with Willow had done him some good. Probably it had helped her as well. Then there was the soul searching – the dreams and desires – that Angel had faced in that place between life and death. Still, something in his world had been irrevocably shattered; an empty place would always remain. 

Left alone in the silent mansion, Angel tried to calm himself through the familiar exercise of Tai Chi. As his body moved through the forms, his mind wandered. He'd told Willow he only had small regrets left, but that wasn't entirely true. He still had one major regret – that Buffy had never known the full impact she'd had on his life. 

Angel had lived without Buffy in his life before…if you could call it that. Existing was closer to the truth. Barely existing off the blood of rats, Angel had been so caught in his own pain to be numb to anything else. It had taken Buffy…just a glimpse of her strength and heart…and the light of her life had removed some of the shadows from his. He could feel again, and there was no turning back. It was because of Buffy that he was the…man he was today. 

The part of his soul that she had touched pained him, though it no longer screamed in her absence. It simply cried, a soul-deep keening. Angel knew its tears would never be silenced. 

He was just finishing his exercises when Giles made his early evening appearance. As they exchanged brief greetings and Angel excused himself to get cleaned up, Giles looked at him in concern. 

"What?" Angel asked on his way out of the room. 

"You're not pushing yourself too hard, are you?" When Angel didn't immediately reply, he continued. "You've been in bed for over a week, Angel. You don't want to harm yourself. We'll all need strength for what's coming." 

"And what's that, Giles?" Angel asked, standing stiffly in the dorrway. 

"I'll explain when everyone gets here," he said. 

By the time Angel had gotten cleaned up, fed, and returned to the main room darkness had fallen and the gang had gathered. Xander and Anya sat next to each other on the couch, Willow a little ways over from them. Cordelia and Wesley sat a bit apart from the rest of the group, as they had always been. Riley sat in one chair, looking uncomfortable and out of place. Giles stood beside beside the couch. All turned to look at Angel when he entered. 

"You're here," Wesley said. "Looking better, I see." 

"Feeling better, thanks," Angel replied, taking the last seat. He looked at Giles expectantly. "What's going on, Giles?" 

Giles leaned against the arm of the couch. "We were just waiting for you before we began," he said. "Usually I'd try and start off easy, exchange pleasantries and all that, but there's no time for that." 

The urgency in Giles' voice was enough to make everyone sit up a bit straighter and pay close attention. 

"The Cult of Spikura," Giles began, "is actually many different types of demons. Fanatics, all of them, dedicated to bringing about Hell on Earth. Literally." 

"Just once," Xander muttered, "I'd like to meet a demon *not* dedicated to the end of the world." 

"Hey, I wasn't!" Anya protested. 

A look from Giles silenced her. "Unlike other attempts," Giles continued, "the Cult of Spikura does not seek to end the world all at once. Instead, they prefer smaller rituals, gradually bringing more of Hell here, constantly growing in strength and numbers. You have all certainly noticed the steady influx of demons lately." 

"So, how do we stop them?" Willow asked. "I mean, when…we…stopped their last ritual, they just turned around and performed it a couple of days later. How do we stop them for good?" Unspoken was what they had lost to prevent that ritual. None of them wanted Buffy's death to be in vain. 

Giles sighed. "Their rituals are spread out so as to have the least chance of failing, but there is one… Call it the point of no return. If we can't stop it, they'll be invincible until Hell rises. If they can't perform the ritual, though, then neither they nor anyone else will be able to end the world in this manner again. They must perform the ritual on top of the hellmouth, and the hellmouth will be closed for good." 

The entire room was silent for a long moment as they took this all in. So, they were headed back to the hellmouth itself. It would be like coming full circle, saving the world from the burned out shell of the high school. Appropriate, somehow, that the last battle for the fate of the Earth be back where they had fought and planned together so often. 

It was Riley who finally spoke. "When?"   


* * *

  
**Part Ten**

"Tomorrow night." 

The shattered fragments of the Initiative looked up in shock at that. Like much of the town, they bore the scars of the last several weeks. Bruises and scrapes were evident on most of them. For that matter, most of them weren't even there. Those that weren't sitting around the table or nursing more serious injuries were either dead or had fled the town completely. So much for the unified strength of the Initiative. 

"Tomorrow night?" Forest asked, sounding amused. He looked the least injured out of the group, or maybe he just hid it better. "They just had to schedule the apocalypse for tomorrow night. I kind of had plans…" 

Riley was not amused. This was a serious occasion and he was in no mood for jokes. "It's not the apocalypse," he explained. "It's a ritual. We need to go in, stop it, and then there will be no apocalypse." 

Looking completely exhausted for the most part, no one said anything at that. When Riley didn't continue immediately, Forest finally took it upon himself to speak up. "So we go in, kick some demon ass, and the world is La-dee-dah again. Why the big meeting?" 

"It's not that simple," Riley tried to explain. 

"Then tell us, Agent Finn." 

Riley sighed and stood. He adjusted his head bandage nervously before he spoke. "Already this town has been decimated by these hostiles. Some of our friends are among the many dead. We can't imagine that these hostiles don't know that tomorrow night is the crucial night when they can be stopped. We're not the only ones that know; we have to assume that the demons know, too. 

"They are certain to be prepared for opposition. They will be calling on every force they can get to ensure they are successful. We need as many people as possible to make sure that they're not." 

Riley tossed a couple of photographs out on the table. "We will be working with these people," he said. 

Forest spoke up once again. "Civilians, Riley?" he asked doubtfully. "This is going to be dangerous. Do you really think…" 

"They know what they're doing," Riley protested. He paused, then said in a softer tone, "They were friends of Buffy's." 

"Man, it always has something to do with that girl." 

"Stop it," Riley said angrily. "Besides, without them we wouldn't know about the ritual tomorrow night." 

Forest sighed. "Fine. So what's the plan? Or do you have any other bombshells to drop on us." 

"The plan is to go in there and kill anything that's not human," he explained. Then he seemed to realize something. "And there is another bombshell, yeah." 

Forest sat back with a sigh. "What is it?" 

"There is an exception to the 'kill every non-human' rule," he explained a touch reluctantly. He fished out a separate picture and slid it onto the table. "His name is Angel, he's a vampire, and he's on our side." 

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me." 

"I'm not," Riley said seriously. "Believe me, if the situation was less dire I'd be questioning this too. But the truth is we need all of the help we can get. He's…well, he's on our side. He's strong, he's hard to kill, and he has experience fighting demons. We need him."   


* * *

  
**Part Eleven**

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," Cordelia said in exasperation. 

Angel didn't even acknowledge her statement. He just kept going through the amazing number of weapons brought by Wesley from L.A. Some he cleaned and/or sharpened and placed in one pile, others he ignored and put in a second, less organized pile. He'd been at this for…well, Cordelia wasn't sure exactly how long he'd been at this, but it was ridiculous. 

"Are you even listening to me?!" she asked louder. 

Angel stopped what he was doing and looked at her sharply. "What would you have me say, huh, Cordelia?" 

"Say that you're not going to go charging into battle like this. Say that you're not going to fight like this." 

Slowly, Angel sat down on the couch. He sank into it and looked up at Cordelia. His face was blank, but his eyes were pained. "I'm needed in this fight," he said simply. 

"But…" 

"I *need* to be in this battle," Angel said, stronger this time. 

Cordelia was startled by his earnestness, but would not be swayed. "Angel," she said in a softer tone. She thought carefully before she continued. "I just don't think you should be out in front this time. You were unconscious for over a week. Maybe you should just hold back." 

Angel looked angry at that. "I won't hold back!" he snapped, then seemed to deflate again. "You don't understand." 

"Then make me understand," Cordelia pleaded 

"They killed Buffy," Angel stated, nearly growling. 

"So you're going to let them kill you?!" Cordelia demanded, giving voice to her fear. 

Angel stood again. Cordelia thought that he would have been pacing if he was one to pace. "I'm not going to let them kill me," he said, though he did not meet her eyes. "But if they do…I'm taking all of them with me." 

"Angel," Cordelia pleaded desperately. He was talking as if he didn't care if he lived or died. "Please…" 

He raised his head from the weapons and looked at her again. He said nothing, just looked at her pointedly. Then he went back to sorting the weapons and would not be disturbed again. Cordelia could take it no longer. She turned her back and walked towards the room she'd been staying in. 

Wesley was standing in the corridor, watching her. "You're wasting your breath," he said softly. 

"I know," Cordelia agreed wearily. "I couldn't just stand there and say nothing." 

"We're all worried about him," Wesley tried to assure her. He smiled very slightly. "At least he's not still comatose, right?" 

Cordelia frowned. "I'm just afraid…that we won't ever see him again after the battle." 

"He won't get himself killed intentionally," Wesley said, though his certainty was waning. 

"But what about unintentionally?" Cordelia demanded loudly. She didn't care if Angel could hear her. "What if he gets killed because he doesn't care any more either way?" 

Wesley said nothing for a while, then sighed heavily. They both knew there was no good answer to that. "The others will be here come nightfall," he said. "They'll watch out for him tomorrow." 

"Watch out for him?" Cordelia said, aghast. "Everyone is too caught up in their own personal issues or wallowing in the Buffy misery just like him. Do you think Riley and the Initiative guys are going to care what happens to Angel? A vampire? No one cares about what happens to him." She turned away from Wesley and quickly strode towards her room. 

"We care." 

She almost missed Wesley's response. 

He ran up beside her and touched her arm lightly. "Cordelia, stop!" he said sternly. 

"What?!" she snapped back at him. 

"We care what happens to Angel," Wesley said slowly. "We'll watch out for him, Cordelia." 

Cordelia just looked at him for a moment. 

"*We* will," he said again. 

Cordelia took a deep breath. "We will," she affirmed.   


* * *

  
**Part Twelve**

Just as the demons were gathering inside, various weary and heart sore fighters began to gather outside one of Sunnydale's numerous cemeteries. A couple of the Initiative soldiers had been there since before nightfall, watching the Cult of Spikura began to assemble. If the situation had been less dire, they might have been fascinated by the sudden teamwork between various types of demons that usually avoided each other. 

The demons and fighters had both begun to gather as soon as the sun set completely. It was not 10:00 at night and the last of them were assembling. The ritual that had brought them all here would occur at the moment when the moon was at its fullest, 11:40 pm precisely. 

The fighters were obviously nervous about the coming battle. It didn't matter how much training any of them had, this wasn't like anything any of them had ever faced before. There were amazing amounts and types of demons teamed together. And this battle would truly decide the fate of the future. 

In contrast to the fighters still gathering outside the cemetery, the demons were confident. If they even noticed the humans at all as they gathered, they ignored them. They could afford to be over confident based on sheer numbers. They also sported none of the numerous injuries that the humans bore from the battles leading up to this point. It was definitely an uneven match. 

The only advantage the demon fighters had was that the demons didn't seem to have any clear leadership. They had a common goal, but no one of them had taken control. On the other hand, with three groups of demon fighters coming together, they needed a clear plan and at least a nominal leader. 

Since Buffy was the usual leader of one of the three groups and her death had been what introduced them to this situation, and Angel wasn't exactly in the right mind at the moment to be leading anyone, that task fell to the only other one in the group that was used to command: agent of the Initiative, Riley Finn. 

"Report," he said to one of the soldiers who'd been there since well before sunset. 

The tired young man looked up seriously. "They stopped gathering about ten minutes ago, so we think that every creature that's going to be here is here. We've seen a good twenty vampires, plus another twenty or so assorted, stronger hostiles. And there may be more within that have been there since last night." 

Riley tried not to show his chagrin. It was no surprise that they were grossly outnumbered. Still, he'd hoped that there would be slightly better odds than three to one. 

"So when do we attack?" another of the soldiers on watch asked impatiently. 

Riley looked at everyone that was gathered on the edge of the cemetery. The remaining soldiers of the Initiative – barely a squad – were helping each other suit up. They bore the latest in high-tech anti-demon weaponry. Standing in a smaller clump a short distance from them were Buffy's friends. They, in contrast, were arming themselves in a more *traditional* manner – stakes, crosses, and medieval weaponry. Riley still wasn't certain about fighting along side them; the two groups didn't exactly mesh well. Still, Buffy's friends would no be dissuaded from avenging her death. But then, neither would he. 

"We wait until everyone is here," Riley said to the anxious soldier. 

The group was quiet and tense. They all knew that any second they would be entering a battle that they might never leave alive. But it was something they had to do. It was what Buffy would have expected…would have wanted. 

Footsteps on the road leading into the cemetery startled the gathering. Riley watched as the group of people hunkered down behind headstones and what little cover they could find, drawing weapons and waiting for whoever – or whatever – was coming. 

Three figures separated themselves from the surrounding darkness and Buffy's friends relaxed visibly. Riley recognized the vampire and his two friends, all three calm and well armed. The members of the Initiative stayed alert with their hands on their weapons until Riley waved them off. 

Angel stopped in the midst of the group. He looked for all the world like he hadn't been in whatever passed for a coma in a vampire just days ago. His eyes met Riley's across the gathering, and Riley could see a momentary pain before it was replaced with cold determination. Both men acknowledged each others presence and the battle they were about to enter with that look. 

No one smiled. Angel looked over the gathered crowd. "What's everyone waiting for?"   


* * *

  
**Part Thirteen**

This was it. Now or never. The demons were gathered in and around a large family mausoleum deep within the cemetery. The group with the greatest firepower was the Initiative soldiers, so they were charging straight in to draw the brunt of the attention from the demons. Everyone else came in behind them, circling around and taking out the stragglers while they were distracted. 

That wasn't good enough for Angel. Over night his despair and loss had turned into an all consuming anger. It burned under his skin, beating with a pulse like the heartbeat he did not possess. It needed to be released, and there was only one way that was going to happen. 

Kill them all, or die trying. 

No one else had any clue as to what was going on in Angel's head. He kept his anger under close control, just as he had controlled his own demon for so many years. Perhaps that was part of where the anger came from – the demon's constant rage at being unable to fight anything. Angel wasn't always able t separate his demon's basest instincts and his own. In this case, it didn't matter. The feelings were still there, and Angel was still able to hide them. 

No one suspected. No one at all. 

Angel stayed to the shadows, unnoticed by the demons he approached. He'd managed to loose his friends as well. None of them were as good at blending into the shadows as he was. 

A figure moved in the darkness in front of him. Creeping at his stealthy best, Angel waited a moment, then came up behind the vampire and beheaded him before he was even aware of Angel's presence. The vampire burst into dust and Angel continued confidently on his way. 

Already he could hear up ahead the sound of fighting; the Initiative was facing off against the Cult of Spikura. A fight was going to be impossible to avoid this evening, if Angel had wanted to avoid a fight. He strode right into the battle. 

The first demon unfortunate enough to spot Angel's entrance in the mausoleum met the sharp end of Angel's axe quite quickly. He made an odd gurgling sound as he died, alerting the demons right in front of him. Angel found himself the center of attention, and it wasn't a good place to be. He let his vampire face show through and growled at the approaching demons. 

Those demons nearest him – at least, those not already engaged in battle with members of the Initiative or busy with the ritual – took that as a signal to attack. Angel didn't care about them – he only cared about the ones they were protecting, the ones conducting the ritual. They had to be stopped. 

Angel barely even noticed the demons right next to him. He just kept going, kept his axe and his body moving. He paused only long enough to know aside anything that got in his way. He didn't even take notice of what he was hitting. It didn't matter if they were down and groaning or down and dead, so long as Angel was one step closer to stopping this ritual. 

The closer Angel got to the center of the gathering, the harder he had to fight for each and every step he took. Even so, he barely felt any blows that landed on him. If he was hit, he simply staggered a step before getting rid of whatever hit him any way he could. Once, a large, hairy demon with nasty looking claws managed to knock Angel all the way to the ground. Some vague part of his mind recognized that the demons claws had inflicted some pretty serious damage, but he didn't have time for that right now. He rolled right back to his feet, using his momentum to swing the axe back around and into the hairy demon's chest. 

He felt absolutely no triumph when the demon fell. One death was nothing compared to the loss of Buffy. He simply turned and looked for his next opponent. 

Instead he found himself deep within the mausoleum, right up against the ritual space. There were only three demons wearing robes of sorts within a circle marked on the ground. Moving forward, he frowned as he stepped into the circle. He could smell it; the circle had been drawn with human blood. Angel doubted it was from a willing donor. 

Angel held his axe in front of him. "You're not taking any more lives," he declared, mostly for his own benefit. 

The three demons stood, identical only in the looks of outrage on their faces. They growled, snarled, and drooled at him and Angel knew this battle within the battle was going to decide it all. He swung his axe wildly at the closest demon. It moved quickly, sidestepping the blow. The axe buried itself in the altar. At the same moment one of the others hit Angel hard from behind, making him stagger. He didn't cry out; he just gritted his teeth and kicked out at the slimy demon that had hit him. The demon fell backwards several feet across the blood circle. 

One of the other demons ran at Angel with a growl. It was blue with heavily ridged skin and was quite large. Instead of getting in a punching contest with this one, Angel ducked under his massive arms and went for the axe again. As he reached for it the third demon barreled into him from the side. They landed on the edge of the altar, bringing part of it down on top of them. Even as Angel felt something sharp dig into his side he reached for a stake he had in one of his coat pockets. With a massive shove he buried the piece of wood into the demon's chest. As the demon pulled back in shock, Angel shoved it off of him. It collided with the largest demon as it fell back, and Angel scrambled to his feet. He wrenched the axe from where it had fallen with the altar. With one smooth, strong motion he beheaded them both at once. Then, with the last of his strength, Angel destroyed what was left of the ritual supplies. 

Finally Angel stood and looked around him. Some of the demons and vampires were beginning to run off. Others were dead. No matter what happened to the Cult of Spikura, this battle was over. This war was over. 

Suddenly, the pain of Angel's injuries made its way through his battle fogged mind. His shirt was wet with his own blood. His back and side burned. Angel did not even bother to look at what the extent of his injuries was. Instead, he sighed in relief and let the darkness of unconsciousness overtake him. 

* * *

  
_To Be Continued - Watch for Book Three: The Fool_

   [1]: mailto:angelsgoodfairy@buffymail.com



	4. Book Three: The Fool

#  The Wheel

##  Book Three: The Fool

by [Cynamin][1]

_0 The Fool: Beginnings; the heady moment before diving into the future; the state of being untested (inexperienced); the feeling of quivering in anticipation when arriving at the brink of experience; exploring the unknown; risking; taking a leap of faith; stepping onto an untested path, or leaping onto the spiral. Consulting an oracle; paying attention to omens; using divination to clear a tangled path._   


* * *

  
**Part One**

Angel's vision went from utter darkness to blinding light. He flinched instinctively, blinking until his eyes adjusted. He felt cold stone beneath him before his surroundings revealed themselves to his vision. 

He was lying on the floor just like he had fallen a moment before. As he looked up the place finally appeared to him. It was both familiar and strange at the same time. It was like the place where he had met the Oracles over half a year ago. The same cold marble, the same shifting light. Yet this place was more vast, leaving Angel feeling much smaller than he was. 

A hand touched Angel's shoulder, and he rolled, trying to stand. The hand did not move, but kept Angel from getting away. "It's alright," said the owner of the voice, "nothing will harm you here." 

The hand let up and Angel managed to rise to a sitting position. He was facing an old woman, her face heavily lined but smiling with maternal love. Angel immediately felt at ease. 

"There, you see?" she said, pleased. "All is well now." 

It wasn't until that moment that Angel realized that his wounds were gone. Somehow that didn't surprise him. The old woman stood and Angel rose as well. "Who? How?" he tried to ask, flustered. 

"The time for questions is past," he said. Then her image wavered and Angel found himself gazing at a young woman bearing a sword and shield. "You have fought valiantly, Warrior," she proclaimed. "The good in this world will not come to an end in your lifetime." 

Angel opened his mouth to speak and the woman smiled indulgently. "Even in your unnatural lifetime," she proclaimed. 

"So…what happens now?" Angel asked softly. 

The woman's image changed again until she was blindfolded and carrying a set of scales. Justice personified. "You are a creature of balance," she declared. "Capable of good or evil. As it should be. Now the world is restored to that same balance. It lies out of your hands whether the world will fall to good or evil now. The actions of lower beings will decide that." 

"Then…I have no further duties?" Angel asked, confused. 

She returned to the appearance of an old woman. "Peace, Angel, is yours if you want it." 

Was she speaking of death? Final peace? He wasn't sure he wanted to take that step. "I…." 

The woman was now a young child with a wide, innocent gaze. "This is not an ending. It is a beginning," she said in a childish lilt. "What do you want, Angel?" 

Angel was startled by the question. "I'm sorry?" 

"What do you want? Tell me, anything at all that you'd want…your earthly reward for your actions on this night and your sacrifices of the past," the child said. 

Angel did not hesitate again. "I want Buffy to have the chance to live. Really live. To get the sort of life that others have and she could never realistically hope for." 

The child blinked at him curiously. "You wish nothing for yourself?" 

"That is for myself. All my wishes are for her." 

The child became the young woman again, this time without the weapons. "I never imagined when I brought you to her that you would grow to love her so." 

"I do," Angel replied. "I love her with my entire being." 

"Would you give up your promised reward – your *life* - so that she could live again?" Justice asked. 

"Without hesitation," Angel replied. 

"Would you give of your immortal life that she might have those years she was denied in this life?" 

"Yes." 

"Then know this," the old woman said. "Your sacrifices have been noted. Your soul cannot be taken from you again. Your demon shall no longer plague you or your friends." She laid her hand on Angel's shoulder once again. "Thank you. And good luck. Happiness is waiting."   


* * *

  
**Part Two**

Cordelia was breathing heavily, leaning with one hand against the remains of a library wall. She was completely exhausted, but she was alive. There wasn't a demon left in the building in one piece. "I made it," she whispered. It was quiet; the world wasn't coming to an end. "We made it. 

Limping slightly, Cordelia began to try and take stock of everyone else. She saw Riley helping some of his friends from the Initiative. He met her eyes as he too looked around and nodded at her that he was all right. Just entering the old library, she saw Giles carrying rolls of bandages. They were sure to need them. 

"Cordelia!" 

Cordelia turned and couldn't help but smile. "Wesley! You're okay," she said, pleased. 

"A bit bruised, but I'll be all right," Wesley replied. 

"What about everyone else?" Cordelia asked urgently. 

Wesley smiled. "We made it, Cordelia. We were incredibly lucky. A couple of people might need to go to the hospital – cuts, broken bones, that sort of thing, but…everyone I've seen is pretty much all right." His smile slipped slightly. 

"Pretty much all right?" Cordelia asked warily. She frowned at him. There was something… "Where is Angel?" 

Wesley bit his lip. "We got separated at the beginning of the battle," he said reluctantly. "I haven't seen him since." 

Cordelia forced down the beginnings of panic. "We have to find him," she said urgently. 

"Of course," Wesley agreed. He went to help Cordelia as she went to limp around a fallen demon. 

"I can get there myself," Cordelia said angrily, shaking him off. He looked hurt. "I'm sorry. I'm just…" 

"Worried," Wesley said in understanding. "Cordelia…" he hesitated. "You know, if he didn't make it, there wouldn't be…" 

"Stop it!" Cordelia snapped. "We'll find him. We'll find him right where there are the most dead demons. He would have been right where the battle was thickest." She looked at Wesley pointedly. "Where was the ritual taking place?" 

Wesley said nothing, but joined Cordelia in weaving around the bodies. Every time he kicked up some vampire dust he flinched. As they walked, the number of dead demons increased. Cordelia was right – if they were going to find Angel, that's where he would be. 

"There," Cordelia said suddenly. She moved relatively agilely over to a pile of rubble that had been an altar place. She sighed in relief, seeing someone half hidden behind the table. "Angel…" she said gently. 

Wesley hurried next to her. He whistled in sympathetic pain. "He's hurt pretty bad," he said. Wesley just touched Angel's arm for a moment and couldn't miss the feel of blood. "He needs to be bandaged up before we can get him out of here. I'll call Giles…" 

"Wesley…" 

"Giles!" Wesley waved to get the bandage carrying Watcher's attention. 

"Wesley!" Cordelia cried in pain. Wesley turned just in time to see her begin to fall to her knees. Her eyes were closed and her face contorted with the pain of vision. He caught her before she hit the floor and landed on Angel. 

After a moment she lost her pained look, opened her eyes, and took a deep breath. She was smiling. "Wesley…" 

Giles made his way to them at that precise moment. "Are you all right, Cordelia?" he asked urgently, having seen her fall. 

"It was a vision," she explained, but she wasn't looking at Giles. She was looking at Angel. 

"I called you over for Angel," Wesley explained briefly. 

"Oh, good lord," Giles said, looking at the extent of Angel's wounds. No doubt about it – the vampire was a total mess. 

"We need to get him bandaged up and back to the mansion," Cordelia said urgently. 

Wesley met her eyes at that. "What did you see?" 

Cordelia looked at him intently. "He made a deal with the Powers That Be," she said steadily. She raised her gaze to meet Giles' confused look. "He got them to bring Buffy back." 

Giles gasped and looked at the unconscious vampire. "What…" 

"That's what I saw," Cordelia tried to explain. "And here's what I know – they're using his own strength, his 'possible years,' to bring her back. So we need to get him bandaged up, get him to his room, and let him alone so that the PTBs can do as they promised." 

Giles just stood there for a moment, shocked. "Yes," he said finally, shaking himself out of his daze. "Yes, of course." Together, the three of them began to clean Angel up in silence.   


* * *

  
**Part Three**

The only sounds in the room were her breathing and her heartbeat. Which, considering the fact that she wasn't alone in the bed would usually be a little odd. Buffy awoke slowly, disoriented. She was in a bed she remembered from a year ago, remembered resting here after a night's patrol. And just like then, she knew the person who lay next to her was the same one as before, one whose heart had not beaten in nearly 250 years. 

Stretching, Buffy took stock of herself with some confusion. She didn't remember how she had gotten here. And she certainly didn't usually go to bed wearing her nicest dress, or patrol in it for that matter. 

Halfway through the motion, Buffy froze. This wasn't right. She remembered…a battle. And pain. Horrible pain, like she was dying. Voices and fear…she was dead! 

Buffy jumped from the bed, too panicked to even cry out. Her heartbeat was loud in her ears. She ran her hands over her dress in an attempt to calm herself. She touched the fabric and came to yet another disturbing revelation – the only reason she was wearing her dress was that she had been buried in it. She barely managed to avoid tearing the fabric as she violently took the dress off. 

Standing there, holding her dress in front of her, looking at Angel not moving in his bed, Buffy *knew.* Not the circumstances of her death; that she had already remembered. No, instead she knew that Angel had made a deal for her life. She knew the opportunity he had given up. She remembered, in a dream-like sort of way, seeing Angel…speaking with Angel after she had died. 

She had died. Her mind was still struggling to grasp that concept. 

Leaning against the wall, Buffy sighed. The dress fell forgotten on the floor. Taking a deep breath, she simply stood there for a moment and watched Angel sleep. He had a small smile on his face that was a bit at odds with the heavy bandages on his back and sides. Buffy found herself wishing that she'd been able to fight along side him. But she'd get plenty of chances for that in the future. 

This whole time Angel had not moved. Buffy knew, like she knew the deal that Angel had made, that he would still be asleep for several days. He needed to build back the strength that he had given in battle and for Buffy's return. Buffy didn't mind, though – she had some things that she needed to take care of on her own before figuring out what to do with Angel. Like telling her mom that she was alive, for one. 

Grabbing a shirt and pants from Angel's closet, she smiled at him one more time. This was all about second chances. 

The mansion was very quiet outside of the bedroom. Buffy took her time in walking towards the main room. She stood for a moment just looking at the scene that greeted her before she was noticed. Cordelia sat in one of the chairs, painting her nails, an ace bandage wrapped securely around on foot. Giles sat on the couch, a book on his lap. Willow sat next to him, looking like she was trying to look at the book with Giles, but she seemed to be falling asleep instead. 

"What's this?" Buffy said loudly, in a teasing tone. "Don't you people have homes?" 

All three of them turned quickly. "Buffy!" Willow cried loudly, jumping from her seat. Buffy could see now that she had one arm in a sling. Willow was across the room quickly and enveloped Buffy in a one armed hug. "You're back. He…they did it," she stuttered. Then softer, "I missed you." 

"I missed you, too," Buffy said, mostly because it was the best thing to say in this situation. She looked up to see both Giles and Cordelia standing there as well. "All of you." 

Giles stepped forward to give her a hug, too. "It's good to have you back, Buffy." 

"It's good to *be* back," Buffy agreed. "I'll try not to die for you again. Twice is enough for any lifetime." 

Giles chuckled at that. "Yes, well…Thank you." 

Buffy turned and looked at Cordelia then. Cordelia did not approach, but she smiled. "Don't hug me. My nail polish is wet." 

Buffy chuckled. "It's good to see you, too, Cordelia." 

There was a long, uncomfortable silence. With a twist in her gut, Buffy feared it was the first of many. After all, how did one talk to someone whose funeral you'd attended nearly two weeks ago? 

"So," Buffy said at last, striding the rest of the way into the large room. "I understand I missed one hell of a battle. You are going to tell me all about it, right?" She smiled and waited for them to join her.   


* * *

  
**Part Four**

It was two days after Buffy's return before Riley showed up at the mansion. Everyone else had been in and out of the place several times, but Riley had other obligations he couldn't get away from. When the battle was over and Sunnydale returned to normal – or as normal as it ever was – the Initiative scientists returned and Riley was the only one in the position to tell them what had happened. 

Standing outside the mansion, Riley took a deep breath. He couldn't understand why he was so nervous. He'd spoken to Willow over the phone since the battle; she'd called him to inform him of Buffy's 'return.' He hadn't yet gotten to speak to Buffy, though. Maybe that's what was making him so nervous. Or maybe he was feeling like this because he didn't quite believe what Willow had told him. 

Riley's problem lay in several places. One was simply that Buffy had died over two weeks ago. He'd been very shaken up about it. And he was still mourning her, but the worst of the pain had passed by the necessity of action. Strange things happened in Sunnydale, but going to talk to Buffy *now*, after everything, just felt beyond bizarre. It was…wrong. 

And there was another problem, one that Riley was trying to ignore. Facing the mansion door, though, he had to face this fact as well. There was nothing at all that Riley could have done to bring Buffy back to life. It had taken her vampire ex-boyfriend and some mystical connection to do that. Riley didn't even pretend to understand. 

With a sigh, Riley knocked on the mansion's door. 

It took a second before someone answered. The man who stood on the other side of the door wasn't one that Riley had gotten to know - Angel's British friend. He stood aside when he recognized Riley and allowed him into the mansion. "She's in the garden," he said, closing the door behind him. He pointed in the appropriate direction. 

Riley nodded his thanks and followed the older man's directions. Walking through the sunlit main room, Riley braced himself for what he would see. He had no idea how he'd react. 

Stepping outside and into the garden, he spotted her quickly. She sat on the edge of the old, stone fountain, the sunlight making her blond hair glow. Her head was tilted up slightly so that the sunlight fell full on her face. She looked positively angelic, and Riley couldn't help but gasp. 

Buffy turned to see who was there. "Riley," she acknowledged, smiling slightly. 

"Buffy," Riley whispered back. He was frozen in shock, never mind that he'd been told Buffy was back. It was one of those things you had to see to believe. 

She smiled at him tolerantly. "Come, sit down," she requested, holding out her hand to him. 

Riley came and sat next to her in silence. He hesitated for a second, then placed his hand on top of hers. Buffy looked at it for a second, then tilted her head back up towards the sunlight. 

"Have you ever really taken the time to enjoy a moment?" she asked softly. 

Riley didn't know how she wanted him to reply to that, so he said nothing. 

"I never did either, before." She sighed. Glancing at Riley, she looked a bit embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I'm being weird, aren't I?" 

"This whole situation is weird," Riley replied softly. 

"I'm sorry," Buffy said again, but they both knew it would take a whole lot more than 'sorry' to make the situation comfortable. More than likely it never would be. 

"So," Riley said after an uncomfortable silence, "what happens now?" 

"I don't know," Buffy replied. 

The silence continued to stretch between them. "I've lost you, haven't I?" Riley said, looking at the sky instead of at her. 

"What?" Buffy asked in surprise. 

"I never had you," Riley clarified. "I think I realized that the moment I saw Angel. You never even mentioned him, but I saw him after you…died. And I think…I think there was something between the two of you that you and I could never duplicate." 

"I…" Buffy faltered. "Well." 

"Yeah," Riley said back. 

"You know, it's not like it's ever been easy between Angel and I," Buffy said after a long moment. 

"If it's worth having, it's worth working for," Riley replied. 

Buffy tore her gaze away from the sky and looked at him in surprise. "You're being remarkably…understanding about this." 

"I don't mean to sound corny, but I saw you in his eyes," Riley explained. "Somehow, I know you love him, not me. I love you, and I know you *like* me, but you have to decide what it is you want. On one hand you've got a normal guy who loves you, and on the other a vampire whose feelings you return with your whole heart." It pained Riley to say it, but he knew it was the truth. 

The silence stretched between them again. Buffy looked up at the sky and sighed. "Do you know that Angel gave up the chance to see sunlight again – to be human – twice, so that I could live? He could have been human." She smiled to herself. "If he can sacrifice his life for mine…well, then the daylight isn't so big a thing for me to give up in comparison." 

Her final decision hurt less than Riley expected it to. Maybe that's because he has already said goodbye to her in his heart. "I think you made the right choice," he said. 

"Thank you, Riley," she said sincerely, standing. She met his eyes for a moment, then gave him a gentle kiss. "Thank you for everything." She smiled at him openly, then walked back into the mansion. 

Riley sat there, watching her leave and feeling the empty space she left behind. He could still feel her lips on his and smiled. "No, Buffy," he whispered. "Thank you."   


* * *

  
**Part Five**

When Angel awoke, he knew without a doubt that he'd been sleeping for several days. For one thing, he desperately needed to feed. More important, though, was that the horrible wounds he had received in the last battle seemed to nearly have healed. He might heal abnormally fast, but not that fast when the injuries were that serious. Also, he was incredibly rested, like he had just woken from a long, dreamless sleep. Which he had, after all. 

Well, except unconsciousness couldn't exactly be considered sleep. And it hadn't been exactly dreamless, either. *What a strange dream…* 

His eyes still closed, Angel sighed. "If only…" he whispered. 

"If only what, sleepy head?" 

Angel's eyes snapped open and he couldn't move. He stared up at the ceiling, afraid that he'd lost it. Afraid that when he looked *she* wouldn't be there. 

Ghost or not, her words…her presence begged to be answered. "If only you were here," he whispered. 

"I'm here," came the soft reply. 

Angel turned his head oh so slowly. There she sat, like a vision, sitting in a chair next to the bed and smiling. She was so incredibly beautiful…so alive. "How?" he managed to ask. 

Buffy stood and came to sit on the edge of the bed. Ever so gently she took his hand in her own. Her hand was warm – not dead at all. Could that have been the dream? Were the past weeks just a nightmare? 

She smiled at him warmly. "You made a deal, didn't you?" she pointed out. "Did you think the Powers wouldn't follow through?" 

"Not at all," he protested. "I thought it was a dream." 

"It wasn't a dream." 

Angel almost didn't dare to hope. With a trembling hand, he brought his fingers up to brush her cheek. She leaned her head into the gesture and Angel could feel her breath on his hand. "You're really here," he whispered. 

"Yeah," Buffy whispered back. 

Sitting up in bed, Angel looked at her for a long moment in silence. It wasn't awkward at all. On the contrary, it was only strange in its familiarity, like they'd never been apart. It shouldn't have been so comfortable. It shouldn't have been at all. 

"So," Angel said, only to break the silence, "how are you?" As soon as the words were out he grimaced. That sounded so *stupid.* 

Buffy chuckled slightly. "Alive," she said easily. He smile slipped a bit. 

There was something in her expression that made him uneasy. "I…" he faltered, unable to think of a good thing to say. *I'm sorry for asking the Powers That Be to bring you back to life without asking you first* wasn't quite right. And in truth Angel wasn't at all sorry that he'd done it. But anything that caused Buffy pain… "That is, umm…I'm sorry-" 

"Don't," Buffy said quickly. "Stop it!" 

"What?" Angel asked, shocked. 

"Don't you *dare* start acting all guilty!" Buffy demanded. She softened almost immediately. "You didn't ask for anything I didn't want. I told you I wanted to return with you if I could. I wasn't expecting you to go to such extremes, but…it's good to be back." 

"You remember," Angel said in surprise. Everything they'd shared in the places between life and death… 

"In a dream-like way, but yeah," Buffy said, smiling slightly. "Even things I didn't remember before." She looked at him seriously. "I still can't believe you've actually given up the chance to be human *twice* now for me." 

"Human life isn't worth living unless you're in it," Angel replied without thinking. He was instantly embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that." 

Buffy just smiled at him. "It's alright," she said. Her expression seemed pleased, but it was probably just his imagination. 

Silence fell between them again, more awkward than the last. "I've been a bit out of it," Angel said, smiling slightly. "How…how is everyone?" 

Buffy saw right through his innocent question. "Everyone you know survived. Willow has a broken arm, Xander had a concussion, and Cordelia has a badly sprained ankle. A couple of the guys from the Initiative didn't make it, but no one you know." 

"And Riley?" Angel asked hesitantly. 

"He's good. Not a scratch." 

"Oh." Angel forced a smile. "Well…that's good." 

Buffy smiled at him tolerantly. "You don't have to pretend you care that much about him. It's alright," she said, obviously very amused. "You weren't listening very well, were you?" 

"What?" Angel hadn't had a moment free of confusion since he woke up, it seemed. 

"I said I wanted to come back and be *with you.* That I wanted my life to be with you. I meant it. I meant every word." 

"But…" Angel tried to protest. 

"No excuses," Buffy said quickly. "I've heard them all before. We both know the curse is now a non-issue. Everything else could have been, too, but you gave up that possibility so that I could have another chance at life." She looked at him strongly. "I think I'm going to finally get what I want out of life. And I want you in it." 

Angel just stared at her in surprise. "But what about Riley?" 

Buffy squeezed the hand she held in reassurance. "He knew what I wanted before I did." 

"He did?" 

Buffy nodded. "So," she said, scooting closer to him, "are you going to keep being an idiot or are you going to do what the girl you brought back to life wants?" 

To both of their surprise, Angel laughed. Then, instead of saying a word, he kissed her heartily. 

When they separated again, Buffy laughed as well. "I think I like that answer."   


* * *

  
**Part Six**

It had been exactly a week since the battle, and most of Sunnydale had returned to normal. Even those who had lost loved ones in the days prior were settling back into their normal routine. 

It had been four days since Buffy had returned from the dead, and her family and friends were still scrambling to adjust. 

It had been two days since Riley had parted ways romantically with Buffy so that she was free to be with her first love once again. No one had seen Riley since, and it was assumed he was hard at work with the Initiative. 

It had been one day since Angel had awoken to a world changed for the better, his love returned to life and returned to *his* life such as it was, and a hellmouth permanently sealed. 

Everyone was doing their best to adapt to the changes of the past three weeks, but things had just happened too fast. The group of them had now gathered in the mansion, supposedly to celebrate their victory, but the conversation was awkward at best. They'd been fine while everyone was eating. But now the food had run out and uncomfortable silence prevailed. 

The group sat around the mansion's great room in odd, fractured clumps. In the center of it all, yet somehow the farthest removed from the rest, were Buffy and Angel. Angel had not yet fully recovered, and sat back in the couch tired and still bandaged. Buffy leaned into his uninjured side and he lay his arm across her shoulders. A couple of attempts had been made at leading conversation, but they consistently fell flat. 

Buffy sighed and leaned farther into Angel's side. "I can't stay," she muttered, but not quiet enough that her statement was missed. The entire room's attention was suddenly on her. 

Angel pulled away from her slightly in alarm. "What?" he asked, looking her in the eye with a hint of desperation. 

"Oh!" Buffy gasped, grasping Angel's arm strongly. "No, Angel. I didn't mean it like that," she said, realizing that her words could be misinterpreted. "You made a deal, and I'm going to have a long life as a result. With any luck I will die an old, old woman." 

"Then what *are* you saying?" Giles asked in concern. 

"I can't stay *here*," Buffy tried to explain. "And I don't mean today, this party. I mean Sunnydale." 

Confusion prevailed among the gathering. "But…why?" Willow asked, obviously upset. "Is there something we can do to make you stay?" 

Buffy shook her head. "It's nothing anyone did or anything," she said finally. "But…haven't any of the rest of you noticed how awkward this is? I'm legally dead. By god, I have a *gravestone.* What exactly am I supposed to do now if I stay here?" 

Angel shifted uncomfortably and Buffy turned to face him. "No guilt!" she said sternly. "I told you – I'm happy to be here. Look at it this way: you gave me the chance to travel." 

Angel frowned, an expression mirrored on many other faces. "Buffy…" Mrs. Summers began to protest unhappily. 

"What?" Buffy asked before her mother could even begin the guilt trip. "I never had a chance before. I never had a chance for a lot of things. Now the hellmouth is closed. That doesn't mean there isn't still evil out there, though. Dispersed, wandering. It may not be as strong as before, but I can't just stop fighting. It's not in my nature any more." 

Silence still filled the room, so Buffy continued. "I can't just go on with my life like nothing happened. I can't waltz into classes again like I hadn't been declared dead. This is my second chance – a new beginning. And I can't have a new beginning if I stay here." 

"But," Willow said at last, clearly quite upset, "to never see you again…" 

"You guys!" Buffy exclaimed, seeming slightly amused. "It's not like I would never visit! Goodness, you're my family. I plan on dropping in unannounced quite often! You make it sound like I'm abandoning you." 

Nervous laughter met her protest. Buffy laughed as well, and soon the entire group was laughing. It was awkward and somewhat forced, but it was needed to release the tension in the room. They all needed the laugh and felt better for it. 

With one notable exception. Angel did not join in the laughter, nor did he so much as smile. He sat very stiffly, looking straight ahead with a slightly pained expression that he couldn't hide. Buffy noticed his immobility and turned to look at him in confusion. 

"What's wrong?" she asked softly. 

Angel shrugged and sank back even further into the couch. "It's…I thought…" he faltered, searching for the right words. 

Confusion stayed on Buffy's face a moment longer, then she began to chuckle again. She gave Angel a playful shove in the side, startling him. Looking at her friends, she said amused, "Forgive me while I knock some sense into this…*silly* vampire next to me." 

"Silly?" Angel asked, quite confused now. 

Buffy leaned close and said into his ear, "I want you to come with me." 

Now Angel was well and truly flabbergasted. "What? I…" 

Buffy couldn't help but chuckle. "I can counter all of your arguments," she said with certainty, "so you might as well start packing your bags." 

Angel looked a bit helplessly around the room. This was too much too fast. Did he want to run off with Buffy? Travel the world, show her all the places he's been? Of course. Could he? He just didn't know. 

His wandering eyes met Cordelia's, and she grinned at him. "Don't look at me," she said easily. "You've been 'released from your duty as a Warrior,' remember? Whatever you do now is your choice." 

Angel looked at Buffy again and found her smiling at him expectantly. "It doesn't necessarily mean forever," she explained. "Sunnydale is home to me now. Maybe someday we'll live in some little house with heavy drapes and pretend to be normal people. But for now…" she paused and sighed. "Let's have a fairy tale ending, Angel. You be Prince Charming and I'll be the beautiful damsel and we'll ride off together on your great white horse." She chuckled then and grinned at him. "Well, big black car as the case may be," she amended. "And we can't exactly ride off into the sunset, but I was always partial to moonlight myself…" 

Angel silenced Buffy's babbling with a kiss. When he pulled away and she sat there open mouthed, he grinned. He could not help but feel the rosy, unfamiliar glow of hope. "Happily ever after?" he asked with a smile. 

Buffy smiled back at him. She seemed to have completely forgotten that they had an audience. "I think we deserve a happily ever after, don't you?" 

For once, Angel allowed himself to believe her.   
  


   [1]: mailto:angelsgoodfairy@buffymail.com



	5. Aftermath: The World

#  The Wheel

##  Aftermath: The World

by [Cynamin][1]

_21 The World: Ecological and/or global issues. Perfection, recognition, fulfillment, completion, success, achievement. Rewards reaped from hard work. Long-term goals accomplished. Can also indicate a lack of global perspective; tunnel vision; inability to see the forest for the trees; self-serving interests; short-term rather than long-term goals; failure to complete a task; lack of vision._   


* * *

  
**Part One**

Buffy stared apprehensively at the closed door in front of her. So long traveling the world…it felt like longer than it had actually been. Only seven years, but Buffy had seen so much. She'd things that she'd never imagined she'd have the chance to. All that time traveling from town to town, from country to country, following tales of mysterious murders and monstrous creatures…. Sometimes they were false alarms; more often than not they were the real thing. Still, ever since the end of the last real demon war and Buffy's following resurrection, the number of demons had been steadily declining. She had decided it was finally time to return home. 

A hand squeezed Buffy's shoulder reassuringly, and she smiled to herself. *They* had decided it was time to return home. They had traveled so far together, even seen where Angel had lived as a human. Still, even with everywhere they had seen and the amount of time they'd spent away, Sunnydale was somehow still home to the both of them. 

For the moment neither of them spoke. Then Angel smiled understandingly at Buffy and reached around her to ring the doorbell. The near silence of the nighttime street was quickly replaced by the sounds of activity inside the home. 

"Coming!" a familiar voice called, and Buffy felt her stomach flip. 

/Why am I so nervous?/ 

Then the door opened and Willow looked at her in surprise. "Buffy!" she cried enthusiastically. She wrapped Buffy in an exuberant hug. Her cry alerted the others in the apartment, and soon the space behind Willow was crowded with familiar faces. "Come in, both of you!" 

Buffy smiled and she and Angel happily entered. The two of them were quickly engulfed in warm hugs and friendly handshakes. As soon as the babbled greetings were over, Willow spoke up once again. "I didn't think you were going to come! You didn't call…" 

"Yeah, well…" Buffy shrugged and say on the now empty couch. "We weren't sure we were going to be able to make it. We almost didn't – planes and sunlight and all. So, um…surprise!" 

A couple of chuckles met her statement, and the group filtered into the living area and sat on whatever space available. The whole gang was there as Buffy remembered them; from Giles to Anya. Buffy and Angel fit back into the group like they had never left. Or like they had just left for vacation and hadn't been traveling for seven years. It was so nice to be back in time for the annual holiday party. Buffy and Angel had been invited every year, but the invitation had usually reached them after the event had passed. They'd only made it this year because they were on their way back to Sunnydale anyway. As it was, no one knew that she was planning to stay this time. 

"So," Willow said at last, leaning forward, "how have you been? Where have you been? Come on, tell me everything." 

Buffy smiled at her friend's eagerness. "Well," she said, leaning onto Angel's shoulder as she spoke, "most recently we were in Washington D.C., cleaning out a good sized vampire nest. Though, compared to the sort of things I fought eight years ago they were nothing much. I really think there are barely any organized demons left." She smiled at the thought. Ever since the last major battle it had actually seemed like there was an end in sight. 

"So, you're doing good then," Giles said after a moment. "I mean, you look good. You both look…" he paused, flustered. "Angel…you look older." 

Angel jumped slightly and Buffy chuckled. "Don't be silly," she said. 

All attention was on them now. "No, I think he's right," Xander piped up. "You look older. Buffy tiring you out?" 

Angel glared at him for a second, then fidgeted under the continued attention. "You know this is ridiculous guys," he said. 

"We don't mean it in a bad way," Cordelia said quickly. 

"He doesn't look any older to me," Buffy protested. 

"You see him every day," Willow pointed out. She stood suddenly. "Hold on. I have an idea." With that she left the room, leaving Buffy and Angel staring after her in confusion. 

Moments later she returned, holding a large photo album under one arm and a Polaroid camera in her opposite hand. "Okay," she said certainly to the two of them as she put the album on the table, "smile. I want a nice picture of you two, alright?" 

Buffy and Angel glanced at each other, shrugged, and complied. Willow snapped the picture quickly, then placed the still developing picture on the table. That done, she began to flip through the photo album. "What are you doing?" Buffy asked finally. 

"Before and after pictures," Willow explained with a grin. She held up the photo album triumphantly. "See? Here's 'before.'" 

Buffy took the album from Willow's hand and looked at the picture it was open to. Right before the two of them had departed for parts unknown they had thrown Buffy a part 'Welcome Back,' part 'Bon Voyage' party. There were a bunch of pictures, but Buffy's attention was focused on one of her and Angel laughing at something she couldn't recall now. Well, she was laughing. Angel just had a funny grin on his face. Buffy leaned back from Angel slightly, looking at him, then the picture, then him again. /Wait a second…/ 

Before Buffy could make the same comment everyone else had already made, Willow presented the developed photo she'd taken a minute before with a flourish. "And here's 'after,'" she declared, handing the photo to Angel. 

Angel looked like he'd swallowed something strange. Placing both photos side by side, it was clear to see what everyone was talking about. "I…look older," he whispered, clearly shocked. "I've aged." 

"A bit slow on the uptake," Xander commented, amused. 

Angel didn't even bother to glare this time. "But…how is this possible?" 

Many eyes turned to Giles, but no one spoke for a long moment. 

"Seven years…" 

That whisper was from Cordelia, and all eyes turned to focus on her. "Years…" she was muttering to herself. "I should know this…" She noticed all of them staring at her. "Hey! I'm trying to think! Is it *that* weird that I might know something?" She stared at each of them in turn, daring them to contradict her. When no one spoke, she smiled contentedly. "Thank you. As I was saying, there's something about that phrase that's familiar. Years… Possible years…?" 

"The deal!" Wesley said suddenly. He'd been quiet all night, but now the attention was turned on him. He wasn't fazed though, looking earnestly at Cordelia and Angel. "Remember right after the last battle, when you tried to tell us what Angel did for Buffy's life? You used that phrase then. Something about using his possible years." 

"That's what she meant?" Angel asked himself softly. 

"What is it?" Buffy asked. 

He leaned back in the couch cushions, obviously lost in thought. "When the battle was over and I…met a representative of the Powers…. I remember her saying, when I asked for your life back, 'Would you give of your immortal life that she might have those years she was denied in this life?'" He seemed to snap back to the present and looked at all of them before focusing on the two ex-watchers. "Is this what she meant? That I'm going to age now?" 

"Maybe she…they…wanted to give you a little something closer to a normal life, even if you're not living per say," Wesley suggested. 

Before Angel could ponder that statement further, Buffy chuckled. "If that's the case, you don't know the half of it." 

"What do you mean?" Willow asked, voicing the question everyone else was thinking. 

"I've decided that I'm staying in Sunnydale," Buffy declared. "We're moving back home." 

There was a bit of joyous ruckus at that which took a little while to calm down. When it did, it was Giles that spoke calmly. "As happy as I am to have you return – we've all missed you, you know – why did you decide now?" 

Buffy smiled so large it nearly hurt, but she couldn't help it. She winked at Angel and proceeded to tell the lot of them something not even Angel knew yet. "Well, traveling around the world and killing demons doesn't exactly leave a lot of time to raise a child." 

The entire gathering fell into stunned silence at the statement. For a moment Angel looked at her completely without comprehension, then he wrapped Buffy into an exuberant embrace all his own. 

And that was how the annual Scooby holiday celebration became a celebration of a completely different kind.   


* * *

  
**Part Two**

It was a new moon, and Sunnydale was incredibly dark without its light. It was a perfect night for demons to prey on the unwary. And there were always plenty of 'unwary' in this town. 

Katherine wasn't one of them, though. She was the Slayer. 

One hand in the pocket of her jacket, the young Slayer ran her fingers over the rough wood of a stake. She was wandering the edge of one of Sunnydale's cemeteries, weaving in and out of the cover of the trees. There was a vampire nearby; she'd sensed it on and off for the last several minutes. There weren't many vampires in Sunnydale anymore, so Katherine was even more determined to do her job with this one. After tonight, there'd be one less vampire walking the earth. 

Walking a bit deeper into the cemetery, she thought she caught a glimpse of another figure. It was hard to make him or her out, as they stayed hidden in the shadows. Definitely a vampire. 

As quiet as possible, Katherine quickly closed in on the creature. It was male, wearing a long dark coat. Beyond that was impossible to tell in the darkness. 

Removing the stake from her pocket, she prepared to slay the vampire before it was even aware of her presence. She hurried the last couple of steps, raised the stake and- 

The vampire turned quickly, avoiding the stake and catching her wrist in mid strike. "Katherine!" 

Katherine dropped her stake in surprise. "Dad!" she blurted. "What are you doing here?" 

Angel showed her his own stake calmly before putting it back in his pocket. "The same thing as you, apparently," he said easily. He leaned down and picked up the stake she had dropped. "If I give this back to you, do you promise not to try and stake me again?" 

Katherine turned bright red in embarrassment. With a touch of chagrin, she knew her father could see her blush, even without any helpful moonlight. "I am *so* sorry," she choked out. 

Her father looked more amused than angry, though. "It's okay," he said, handing her back her stake. "You were only doing your job." 

"So…you're not mad at me?" Katherine asked, chewing her lip. Funny how nearly staking her father turned her from confident Slayer to embarrassed little girl… 

"No, I'm not mad at you," Angel said calmly. He put an arm around her shoulder and began to walk with her along the edge of the cemetery. "Katherine?" he asked gently. 

"Yes?" 

He sighed. "When were you called?" 

Katherine looked at her father in surprise. "Two weeks ago. How did you…?" She stopped herself quickly. Of course he'd know about Slayers. She'd known from a very young age that her family wasn't like other families. Her father's vampirism had never been kept secret from her or her younger brother. She'd known since she was very young that her father wasn't a normal vampire, either. "I wasn't supposed to let anyone know," Katherine said at last, apologetically. 

"That's how it always is," Angel said in understanding. 

Katherine swallowed. "You're not going to tell Mom, are you?" 

"Of course I'm going to tell your mother!" Angel said quickly. 

"Dad!" 

Angel stopped and turned to face his daughter seriously. "Do you think she wouldn't understand? That she'd freak out or something?" 

"To put it bluntly?" Katherine asked. "I think freaking out would be the *least* of what she'd do." 

Angel couldn't help but chuckle. "Your mother just might surprise you," he said. 

"Huh?" Okay, so Katherine wasn't especially eloquent tonight…. 

"I'm guessing you didn't mention your parents' names to your Watcher," Angel said in amusement. 

Katherine smiled back. "Yeah, well, I didn't think it would be the best idea considering my father's 'only good, aging vampire' status." 

"Your mother was a Slayer, Katherine." 

Katherine's shock must have shown on her face, for Angel wrapped his arm around her shoulders once again. "Come on, pumpkin. Let's go home. Your mother and I have quite a story to tell you." 

Katherine happily walked on with her father. What a weird night. 

"Oh, and Katherine?" 

"Yeah, Dad?" 

The good vampire smiled at his daughter; a Slayer, and the daughter of a Slayer. "Invite your Watcher over for dinner. Your mom and I are going to have a long talk with him…to see if he's good enough to train our daughter." 

Katherine just laughed and leaned into her father's shoulder. "Yes, Dad."   


* * *

  
_The End! Yeah, I finally did it! Nope, no sequels to this one._   
  


   [1]: mailto:angelsgoodfairy@buffymail.com



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